A Cal Lightman Christmas
by Calculated Artificiality
Summary: It's a Christmas Story! The sequel to A Cal Lightman Thanksgiving-wherein we discover Christmas tree shopping, Gingerbread House making, copious amounts of decorating, a cameo by Zoe-boo, hiss!- PRESENTS, and much, much more!  Come on inside!
1. You didn't ASK her?

_A/N: I'm baaaaaack! Here is part one of A Cal Lightman Christmas. _

_This is a sequel to A Cal Lightman Thanksgiving, which was a sequel to It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman. If you've not read those, you can get by with this bit of information, I think: Cal and Gillian are in an est. relationship.  
_

_Throughout its course, this fic will include- Christmas tree shopping, christmas tree decorating, Gingerbread house making, a cameo by bitch-tastic Zoe, presents, cider, copious amounts of Christmas Decorations and general Christmassy-ness, plus Charlie Brown! _

_I know we're all a little miffed right now-and we have reason to be- BUT, NO MATTER WHAT, WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE FIC. And please, they'd never show this kinda stuff on the show, ANYWAY. _

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It was the first Monday after Thanksgiving and Cal Lightman sat in his office, his feet propped up on his desk thumbing through papers detailing the residuals from his books.

Emily Lightman burst through the door of his office, "Hey, Dad!" She offered, a bright smile on her face as she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and slid the baby blue hat off her head.

"Hey, Em." Cal greeted his daughter, "You out of school already?" He asked, and then glanced at his watch, "Where did the day go?"

Emily raised her eyebrows at her dad, placed her hands on her hips and looked at him expectantly.

Cal tossed the residuals back on his desk and threw his arms in the air, "What?" he asked, his voice adopting a particularly innocent tone.

"You _know_ what." Emily replied, fixing him with a stern gaze. "I can't believe you didn't call me this weekend!" She said, the disbelief was absolutely reflected in her tone.

Cal fixed her with a blank stare and then quirked one eyebrow.

Emily sighed, demonstrating her utter impatience, "Gill?" her tone was heavy as she crossed her arms, "Well? Did you work everything out?"

Cal thought about Thursday night and then grinned—Gillian had been upset. Truthfully, she still kind of was. But, Cal used _adult _measures to ensure a speedy forgiveness. He recalled the night fondly as a smirk passed across his face.

"Oh, _ew_!" Emily said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, "TMI, Dad." She said, plopping down in the chair across from him.

"Oi!" Cal kicked his feet from his desk and leaned forward, "When did _you_ become an expert face reader?" He inquired, arching an eyebrow at her.

Emily rolled her eyes, "I know enough."

Cal grinned. "Blessing and a curse, isn't it?"

Emily laughed lightly, "Well," she said, leaning back in the chair, "I'm glad you woked it out, at any rate." Emily looked at him, reading the look that flashed on his face, "You guys did _talk_, didn't you?" She asked him, her gaze hard.

Cal shifted his eyes downward and then shifted in his chair, "Course we did."

Emily brought her hand up to her forehead, "I swear, Dad," She said, shaking her head, "Sometimes I worry about you," She finished, a small smile playing on her lips.

Cal pursed his lips, "Makes two of us, darling."

Emily giggled, "You need to tell her." She said simply. At Cal's look, she responded, "_Everything_."

"There are some things that can't be put into words, Emily."

Emily shrugged, "That is _such_ a copout, Dad." She stretched her legs out in front of her, "Those are the things that need words most."

Cal was taken aback by his daughter's comment. He had avoided giving a name to his feelings for Gillian rationalizing it with the thought that it didn't need a name—that naming it would change it or defeat some mythic meta-purpose or something. In reality, he was rather scared about it all, actually—about the gravity of it.

Cal regarded his daughter with nothing less than awe, "When did you get so smart?" He questioned, smiling at her.

Emily shrugged again, then returned his smile—"While you were pining over Gillian," She said, her tone humorous. She leaned forward in her chair, "So, I've had a _lot_ of time." She said, laughing at his expression.

Cal narrowed his eyes at her in mock anger—he pointed his finger at her and waggled it.

Emily just laughed, "So," She began, "Did you ask Gill if she wants to come with us today?" At Cal's look, Emily groaned, "You didn't ask her?" She asked, her tone full of incredulity.

Cal ducked his head slightly, "I forgot!" He exclaimed, pushing his palms out in front of him.

Emily's mouth opened with disbelief—then, she spoke, "I can't believe you _forgot_ Dad." She said, fixing him with a hard stare, "It was important…What if she has plans now?" Emily asked, her tone near a whine.

Cal looked chagrined—"I'm _sorry_, love, I've been rather busy today."

Emily looked pointedly at his near empty desk. "Clearly." She said. At Cal's expression she let out a laugh, and then muttered under her breath, "I can't believe you forgot to ask Gill."

"Ask me what?" Gillian asked, standing in the doorway.

At her words, both Emily and Cal turned to look at her—both flashed the same expression: happiness.

"Hi, Gill!" Emily said, from her seated position.

"Hi, Emily." Gillian returned with a warm smile. "Ask me what?" She repeated her question as she stepped further into Cal's office, stopping near his desk and folding her arms across her chest. She looked curiously between Emily and Cal.

Emily smiled at her, "Well," She said, shifting in her chair so that she was facing Gillian, "Dad was supposed to ask you, but he _forgot_," She said, shooting a pointed look to Cal, who mouthed I'm sorry, drawing a slight laugh from Gillian, "But, every year on the Monday after Thanksgiving, we go and pick out our Christmas tree—" Emily said, her excitement lacing her words, "You know, to take the pain of the first Monday back from a Holiday and lessen it," She explained, watching Gillian's face. Gillian smiled and nodded her understanding, "Well, anyway, this year, I wanted—" Emily shook her head, looked at her dad, "_We _wanted," She amended, "You to come with us!" Emily finished, leaning slightly forward, still looking at Gillian.

Gillian chuckled at the expectant expression, "Sounds fun." Gillian said.

Emily nodded, "It is." She said enthusiastically, "Well? Can you go?" She asked, her eyes filling up with hope.

Gillian glanced between Emily and Cal, who was watching the exchange with a silent smile—when Gillian cocked her head to the side and looked at him, Cal's smile widened. "So, like a tradition, then, would you say?" Gillian asked, turning her attention back to Emily. She was wary of the word—last time she'd heard that word, things hadn't turned out so wonderfully for her.

Emily nodded, "Yep." Thinking quickly, she added, "A family one." Emily's face grew serious, "And we want you there."

At Emily's tone, Gillian felt her heart swell—she smiled warmly at Emily, "Who—" Gillian broke off, suddenly uncomfortable. She wasn't sure how to ask the question—"Who all… partakes in this tradition?" She asked, her tone gentle.

Emily furrowed her brow in confusion, and opened her mouth to ask Gillian to clarify her meaning, but Cal chuckled and broke in—

"Just me and Emily, darling." He said, his tone light, his eyes serious as he looked at her, "And, we hope, you." He said, simply—then, he smiled at her.

Gillian felt a rush of relief pass through her body. Cal had understood the question and allayed her fears. Gillian looked at her watch, "What time are you leaving?"

Emily shrugged, "Whenever."

Gillian chuckled, "Alright. I have a bit of paperwork to finish up," She said—

"Blow it off." Cal said, his tone light, "You're the boss." He said, his eyes dancing.

She rolled her eyes at him—"I can finish in thirty minutes." She said, as she turned to leave, "And I'd love to come—" She said, in case she hadn't made that clear. "Thank you, _Emily_," She said, throwing a glare toward Cal.

Emily giggled and Cal chuckled as Gillian crossed the threshold and headed back to her office.

Emily turned to look at her father, who was busy watching Gillian walk down the hall. She took notice of the way his eyes tracked Gillian until he could no longer see her—and even then how his stare lingered rather wistfully. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the sides as a slight smile graced his face, more than likely without his knowledge. She took in the way his posture was relaxed—even more so than usual—and the way he nearly had to force himself to look away from the last point he saw Gillian.

When he finally did turn his gaze and fix it back on his daughter, Emily was staring at him with an expression that conveyed her incredulity.

"What?" Cal asked her, leaning forward in his chair.

Emily shook her head, "Dude." She said, smiling, "You've _got_ to _tell_ her." She said.

Cal raised his eyebrow. "Dude?" He questioned—it wasn't a word he usually associated with Emily's vernacular—Emily shrugged. "Mind your own business," He said, but he couldn't help but smile as he said it.

"Sorry, Dad," She said, pulling her knees up in the chair with her, "You _are_ my business." She chuckled at the look he gave her, "And so is Gillian." She said, smiling smugly. "I can't believe you forgot to ask her," She said, shaking her head.

"Hey, she's still going, isn't she?" He asked, his tone playful.

"Yeah," Emily said, "Lucky for you!"

Cal smiled at her, and his voice was quiet when he spoke, "Yes, indeed."

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_TBC_

_I, too, am quite sad re: the news-_

_reviews, however, always seem to make me smile. if you can find the energy-i'd appreciate it! :)_

_peace, love, and LIE TO ME (we hope.)  
_


	2. O! Christmas Tree, O! Christmas Tree!

_A/N: Hello, welcome to chapter two of this story! Writing Gillian and Cal in an est. relationship is TOUGH work! In this here chapter you have our favorite duo going Christmas Tree Shopping! Hooray! _

_I didn't even look this bad boy through ONCE to look for error. Hope there's not any! :D_

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Gillian, Cal and Emily all piled into Cal's car—they arrived at the Christmas tree lot just as it was growing dark outside. As they pulled into the lot, the lights flickered on, first the white and then the multicolored, surrounding the lot in a pretty haze.

Stepping out of the car, Gillian pulled her jacket tight around her body and wrapped her scarf around her neck. Cal walked around the front of the car and joined her as she looked at the Christmas tree lot and then looked up into the sky.

"It might snow." She said, looking up and then looking at Cal who was watching her.

"It'd be a bit early," Cal said.

Gillian smiled, "I know. But it'd be amazing," Her breath hit the air and Cal watched as her lips formed the word. He felt his heart pull as she drew out the 'i' in amazing, giving the word more syllables than it actually had.

"Come on, you guys!" Emily called from the entrance to the lot. Cal and Gillian both turned to look at her—they found her smiling as she stood with her hands on her hips.

Chuckling, Cal guided Gillian over to where Emily stood. Emily, still smiling, fixed him with a look that made him laugh as he flung his arm around her and put his hand atop his head—"Patience is a virtue, young lady." Cal said.

Gillian nearly snorted at his comment, "Oh, _please_, Cal!" Gillian said, and Emily laughed.

Cal turned to face Gillian as they walked "Oi," He said, waggling a finger at her, "Do you mean to insinuate that I am an impatient man?" He asked, feigning incredulity.

Gillian swatted his arm, her tone playful—"Something like that, yeah." She said, shaking her head.

Cal quirked an eyebrow at her and scratched Emily's head through her hat, "Can you believe that?" He asked Emily.

Emily rolled her eyes, "You are like the most impatient person I know!" Emily said, digging her elbow lightly into his ribs. Emily bit her lip, "Well, actually," She amended, "You're the second." She said, her tone humorous.

Cal grinned, knowing immediately who she was talking about—Cal certainly was impatient, but his ex-wife was even more impatient than he was. "Too right." He said, his voice nearing a whisper. He chanced a glance at Gillian, and was happy to see that she understood the reference but found it humorous. He smiled at her and then looked between the two women on either side of him: "Right, then. What are we looking for?" He asked.

He watched as Emily's face lit up—her eyes widened slightly, and Cal took a moment to appreciate how excited his teenage daughter still got about Christmas. When he turned his glance toward Gillian, he was amused to see that exact same expression on her face as well—she was just as excited as Emily, and the happiness that clouded her eyes nearly took Cal's breath away.

"I mean, I know we're looking for a _tree_," Cal said, reading the sarcastic intent from his daughter's face, "But what _sort_ of tree, then? You know, big, tall, short, fat?" He asked, pushing his daughter slightly.

Emily considered this—"I don't really know—_a pretty one_!" She said, finally, and Cal couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Just then, a man clad in dark jeans and a red plaid shirt approached them, "Good evening," The man said, nodding slightly.

"Evening," Cal greeted, and the three of them stopped.

"Can I help you folks find anything?" He asked. Shifting his gaze between the three of them, his eyes lingering slightly on Gillian whose cheeks were rosy from the cold. She smiled at him.

Cal looked at the man—he was a man probably somewhere in his thirties that had a look quite like a lumberjack—he was muscular with a five o'clock shadow on his face and was, Cal would guess, for all intents and purposes, not awful looking.

"Yeah," He said, instinctively leaning closer to Gillian, "We are looking for—what was it, Em?" He asked, "A _pretty _tree." He said, and he wrapped his arm around Gillian's waist in what was assuredly a territorial manner.

Gillian smiled at him, recognizing his behavior and rolling her eyes at it—she sidled up to him nonetheless.

The lumberjack man chuckled, "Well, we certainly do have plenty of those," He said, "Can I point you in the direction of any particular tree?" The question was presumably directed at all of them, but the man's gaze was fixed on Gillian.

Cal's mouth was open in consideration as he stared at the man, rather befuddled by the question, actually. He was just about to ask the man how in the hell he was supposed to know what _type_ of bloody tree to get, when he felt Gillian's hand squeeze his side.

Gillian smiled at the man, and her fingers lightly caressed Cal's side as she spoke to him, "Do you have any Grand Firs?" She asked, her tone inquisitive.

The man raised his eyebrows at her and then chuckled, "No, I'm afraid we don't." He said, laughing lightly.

"Well, thanks, then," She said, still smiling at him, "I think we'll just have a look around, then." She said.

The man smiled appreciatively at her, and then nodded to Emily and Cal, "Alright. Just let me know if you need any help." He called over his shoulder as he approached another family that had just walked onto the lot.

After the lumberjack man had gone, Cal looked at Gillian, raising an eyebrow in question.

"What?" She asked him, a smile on her face.

"You know about Christmas trees, Foster?" He asked.

Gillian shrugged, "I like Christmas." She said, her voice quiet.

"That is so cool." Emily said excitedly before she began to lead them into the depths of the lot.

Gillian followed behind Emily and Cal followed behind Gillian—they were looking at one particular Christmas tree when Cal could no longer help himself.

"So, Foster—just how many Christmas tree types _are_ there?" He asked.

Gillian couldn't see his face as he was standing behind her, but she heard the smile in his voice, she laughed lightly, "Go ahead, make fun, Cal," She said, and then she turned her head over her shoulder to regard him—she smirked, "I'll just make sure to pick the messiest Christmas tree I know of to grace your living room." She said.

Cal chuckled and leaned forward—he encircled her waist with his arms and leaned in so his breath was against her ear, "Messy, you say, darling?" He asked, his voice low. He could tell by the way her body stilled that Gillian was more than likely blushing

Emily was examining a particular aspect of the tree closely—Gillian cleared her throat and stepped away from Cal, "Yes, Cal," She said, "Messy." She continued down the aisle, leaving Cal standing behind with a smirk on his face.

"You know," Cal said, "I'm rather surprised with as _nice _as you lot are, that you're not horrified by the prospect of these innocent trees being chopped down for decorative purposes."

Gillian quirked her eyebrow at him and Emily giggled.

"Well," Gillian said, a smirk on her face, "It's easier to handle because they're fulfilling their Christmas destiny." Gillian smiled.

Emily, recognizing the _Friends_ reference, burst into laughter and Gillian was not far behind. Cal watched the two of them giggling and felt quite like he missed the joke.

When she composed herself, Emily finally continued walking, dissatisfied with the tree she was looking at, and stopped in front of another tree, "Ooh," Emily said, "This one is nice—" She leaned in to read the tag, "Scotch pine," She read, then she turned to look at Gillian who had stepped up behind her, "Is that good?" She asked, her voice curious.

Gillian nodded, "Those are very popular." She said, "And they have excellent needle retention."

Cal stepped up behind her, a smile playing on his face, "I'm sorry, love, did you just say needle retention?" He asked her.

Emily giggled, and Gillian folded her arms in front of her chest, then smiled at Cal, "Yes, I did." She said.

Emily reached out and touched the pine needles—"This one feels nice," She said, "Let's keep it in mind."

Gillian nodded, amused by Emily's enthusiasm. For once, Gillian didn't feel alone in her pure excitement for the Christmas season.

"What about Douglas Fir?" Emily asked over her shoulder as they entered another section of the lot.

"Those are nice." Gillian said, nodding. "Also pretty popular trees." She shrugged, and Cal watched her bemusedly.

On anyone else besides his daughter and Gillian, he would have found this excitement—and this knowledge of Christmas trees—excruciating. But, on Gillian, it was absolutely endearing. He loved the way she reached out and touched the trees—the way she smiled at Emily and answered her questions. It was beautiful to him what they were sharing in this Christmas tree lot.

"Come on then, love, what's your favorite type of tree?" He asked, his gaze on Gillian's face.

Gillian looked at him, gauging whether or not he was making fun of her. Deciding that he wasn't, she smiled brightly at him—"Well, Grand Fir." She said, "But they don't have that here." She said, shrugging.

"Second favorite then?"

Gillian bit her lip and then considered his question—"The Noble Fir." She said, matter-of-factly.

"Do they have those here?" He asked, peering around the lot.

Gillian laughed, "They should." She said, before she began walking again, in search of the trees—Emily was a row over, examining the Douglas Firs.

"Here they are." Gillian said, stopping in front of a section of Christmas trees.

Cal observed them, and then looked at her, "They're nice." He said—Gillian was pleased to discover upon reading his face that he was being sincere.

"Aren't they?" She asked, reaching out to touch one.

"Why these?" He asked, "I mean, why are these one of your favorite types?"

Gillian smiled, "Because they're _great _ornament trees!" She said, her voice taking on a particularly excited tenor.

At Cal's confused look, she continued, "They're perfect for hanging ornaments on," She said, "Because they have very stiff branches." She explained—and then she reached out and demonstratively tugged on one of the branches.

Cal smiled devilishly at her before taking a step toward her, "Oh yeah?" He asked, pulling her flush against him—she gasped in surprise at the sudden contact, "Like things _stiff_, do you?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her lips.

Gillian flushed at the gravelly sound of his voice, at the way his groin pressed into her, and at the innuendo he was offering, "Cal—" She said, and she was surprised to hear just how breathy her voice sounded.

He laughed, then, because even as she said his name, even as the blush on her cheeks deepened, Gillian pressed herself into him—grinning, he dipped his head and made contact with her lips. She moaned at the feel of his lips on hers, and he gently pressed his tongue inside her mouth—tasting her. She tasted sweet, a bit like cinnamon and something that was uniquely Gillian—a taste he was rapidly becoming addicted to.

He curled his hand in her hair and deepened the kiss—she sighed against him and he smiled against her lips before he pulled away.

Cal stepped back from Gillian and called for his daughter, "Emily?" He called—and the girl came around the corner, "We've found a tree," He said, grinning.

Emily looked between her father and Gillian—taking in Gillian's appearance she couldn't help but giggle as she went over to the tree her father was pointing at.

"It's pretty!" Emily exclaimed, as she looked at the branches.

"Alright?" He asked, still grinning at Gillian.

Emily nodded, "Very alright."

Cal laughed, "Good. Now, let's get this bloody thing up there," He nodded toward the front of the lot.

Gillian stepped forward, "I could go find—"

Cal cut her off with a wave of his hand, "You'll do no such thing. I've got it." He said, as he began gripping the tree.

Gillian laughed and sighed before she went to stand by Emily. Cal was ridiculously cute when he was needlessly jealous.

Suddenly, Gillian felt an arm around her waist, and she was surprised to feel Emily lean her head against her shoulder in a makeshift hug. Gillian felt tears poking the back of her eyes as she looked down into the girl's face—Emily smiled at Gillian, and Gillian smiled back, feeling a wave of happiness wash over her.

After they'd paid, Cal couldn't help but notice Gillian's eyes intently scanning the lot. There was a crease in her brow, and Cal stepped up next to her, "Alright, darling?" He asked.

Gillian nodded her head, "Yeah." She said—

Cal tilted his head to the side and took in her facial expression, "What are you looking for?" He asked, noticing her eyes still on the lot.

Gillian shook her head, "Nothing." She said, and then shifted her gaze to meet Cal's.

"That's a lie," He said, putting his index finger under her chin. "What is it, love?"

Cal saw the fear and apprehension pass over her face as she averted her gaze, "You'll make fun of me." She said, her voice quiet.

"I won't." He said, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

Gillian sighed, and the trepidation in her voice was unmistakable, "I wanted to get…" Her voice trailed off, "A little tree." She said, waving her hand around.

Cal looked at her, "Okay…" He said, not quite understanding.

Gillian shifted on her feet, "This year I wanted to get a little tree—a _sad_ tree," She clarified.

Emily came up then, "A Charlie Brown tree!" She exclaimed—

Gillian laughed, "Yes, exactly." She said, shrugging.

"Em," Cal said, sensing Gillian's mood—"Why don't you go warm up the car for us?" He asked, not taking his eyes off Gillian.

Emily shrugged. "Sure!" She said, taking the keys Cal proffered.

Silence fell between them, "I just wanted a sad tree." She said, her voice uncertain. Her gaze met Cal's, and she regarded him cautiously—trying to figure out what he was thinking. She offered him a small smile when she read no trace of anything negative on his face. She had feared he would make fun of her or think her silly—reading his face, however, she was relieved to determine that absolutely wasn't the case. "I didn't see any." She said, finally.

"I didn't, either," Cal said, "But, then, I wasn't really looking…" His voice trailed off, and be put his arm around Gillian and brought her close to his body—planting a kiss to her hair, he asked, "Why?"

He felt Gillian stiffen. He squeezed her arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She shrugged, "I've just always wanted one—ever since I was little." She said, her voice still eerily quiet.

Cal nodded, and brought his hand up to stroke her hair as he pulled back to look at her face, "And you never got one before?" He asked.

Gillian bit her lip and shook her head, "No." She said, averting her gaze, "My Dad wouldn't let me get one," She said, her voice taking on a sad quality that nearly broke Cal's heart, "And Alec," She said, and Cal stiffened at the name—Gillian waved her hand around nebulously, "Thought that it was silly."

Cal felt his blood run hot at the thought of Alec making Gillian feel poorly for something so sweet and innocent. Cal tightened his grip around her and then pulled her forehead to his lips. Offering her a light kiss that made her heart flutter and made tears spring to her eyes, Cal smiled at her.

"Well," He said, his voice soft and sincere, "I _don't_ think it's silly." He said, "And if they had pathetic looking trees here, I'd buy you the most pathetic looking one of them all." He said.

His tone elicited a laugh from Gillian and she nodded at him, grateful for the way he was looking at her—like she was the most precious thing in the universe, actually. The way he could vacillate between looking at her like that and looking at her like he did earlier—with such molten desire as though he could hardly contain himself—never ceased to amaze, fascinate and please her.

"Come on, darling," Cal said, easing her toward the car, "Let's go put this thing up, yeah?"

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK.

The conversation in the car was light and easy. They were nearing Cal's house when Emily spoke up, "I can't _wait _to see your house, Gill." She said, "You always go all out with the decorations."

Gillian laughed nervously, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Cal looked at her out of the corner of his eye—"What was that?" He asked her.

Gillian shook her head, "Nothing…" She trailed off. Feeling Emily's eyes on her from the back seat and pressure from both of them, Gillian sighed, "I wasn't really planning on decorating this year," She said, "I was going to put a few things up, but that's it." She said, shrugging.

Emily's voice was full of disappointment, "What? Why not?" She asked—

"I don't know," Gillian said, wringing her hands in her lap.

"Why not, love?" Cal asked, his voice gentle.

Gillian shrugged, "It felt—I don't know…lonely last year. Putting up all those decorations just for myself." She said, her voice quiet.

Emily reached out and placed a hand on Gillian's shoulder, "Well—then bring your decorations over to _our _house and decorate with us!" She said—"We never really decorate that much even though I always want to!"

Gillian hesitated—

"Problem solved." Cal said, smiling at Gillian.

"I don't know…" Gillian said, her tone apprehensive.

"We're not taking no for an answer." Emily said, leaning back in her seat.

Gillian chuckled, "The last time you didn't take no didn't turn out so well for me," She said, but there was no malice in her voice. She sighed, "Alright, fine." She said, knowing she'd eventually give in anyway.

Emily squealed from the backseat, "Yes!" She exclaimed, "This Christmas is going to be so _awesome_!" She said, her voice pure excitement.

"Agreed," Cal said as he reached across the center console and picked up one of Gillian's hands. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand—"Awesome." He breathed against her hand—and Gillian felt herself flush despite the innocence of the word because she was looking into his eyes—which were conveying anything _but _innocence.

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_TBC_

_'Tis the Season for GIVING- so GIVE me a review! xD In these times, us writers kiiiiinda need it. Well, at least, this particular writer does. I need inspiration! _

_Happy Thursday! :)  
_


	3. Gasp! Mistletoe!

_A/N: Once again, thank you ALL for your lovely reviews! They are just LOVELY! I appreciate every single one of them!_

_Also, and this is exceedingly important, so I'm going to BOLD it: **Cal and Gillian are in an ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP- meaning they are romantically involved with one another. If you would like to see how this happened, please read my fic entitled "It's the Great Pumpkin, Cal Lightman"-and if you're interested in the evolution of said RELATIONSHIP, please see my fic entitled "A Cal Lightman Thanksgiving."**  
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_That being said, welcome to chapter 3 of this fic, where we deal with the Christmas fic trope of mistletoe! Yay! Also, we see Loker and Torres (yay?)- and a few other surprises along the way. _

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Eli Loker stood back in the lab of the Lightman Group and admired his handy work. He looked up at the doorframe and was feeling pleased with himself as Ria Torres walked up next to him.

She nodded her head in the direction of her gaze, "What's that?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Loker raised one eyebrow at her and smiled—"Really? You can't tell what that is?" He asked, an edge of playfulness in his voice.

Rolling her eyes, Torres went and sat down in one of the chairs. "I know _what _it is," She said, narrowing her eyes at him, "What's it for?" She inquired.

Loker smiled and walked to stand in front of her, "Ah," He pointed his finger toward the doorframe, "That is part of my brilliant master-plan!"

Torres suppressed a smile, "Your plan?" She couldn't keep the humor out of her voice, "Does this plan have a name?" She questioned, leaning back in her chair, "Or at the very least, a purpose?"

Loker nodded and glanced around conspiratorially, "Yeah. It's called," He lowered his voice, "Plan 'Make Lightman and Foster exceptionally uncomfortable,'" He laughed lightly, still pleased with himself. "It's just not Christmas if we don't get to watch them be awkward around each other." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

Torres sighed, "Has anyone ever told you that you really _are_ insane?" She asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Tell him that every day." Cal Lightman spoke up from behind both of them, causing both Torres and Loker to startle. He cleared his throat, "Why were _you_ saying it though, eh, Torres?" Cal asked, as he looked between both of his employees.

Next to him stood a rather bemused Gillian Foster.

Torres shifted her eyes downward, "No reason in particular." She said, before shooting a look at Loker.

"Oh, if looks could kill…" Cal said, chuckling lightly. He leaned against one of the desks in the lab, as he cast a glance at Gillian Foster—she was still looking rather amused. "You," He pointed his finger at Loker, "said you needed Foster and me to look at something?"

Loker walked over to one of the computers, clicking it, he brought some footage from their current case to the screen, "Right." He said, cueing the footage up, "Can you both look at this for me?" He asked, hitting the play button.

Gillian stepped forward, her mouth parting slightly as she watched the footage—a sign that she was intently listening to what was going on in the interview in front of her.

Cal shifted his gaze between the footage and Gillian. He couldn't help but notice how pleasant she looked simply standing there clad in black slacks and a deep purple top, her head tilted to the side, her mouth slightly parted. Cal pressed his eyes together as he imagined sliding his tongue into her mouth between those parted lips. Cal turned his eyes back to the footage—trying to get the amazing taste of Gillian Foster off his mind. Realizing that wasn't possible, he folded his arms over his chest and squinted at the screen.

As the footage ended, Loker turned around to look at Cal and Gillian—an expectant look crossing his face.

Cal lowered his head and glanced at Loker, he immediately narrowed his eyes at the younger man, "Are you bloody _serious_?" He asked, leaning his head slightly forward in a show of incredulity. "There is nothing here that a first year psychology student wouldn't be able to decipher," He said, his tone dripping with what could only be described as animosity.

"Cal…" Gillian interrupted, a small smile playing on her face.

"No, no, no," Cal said, waving his hand around, "This has got to stop, Foster." He said, but he was looking between Torres and Loker, "You two have _got_ to learn to stand on your own two feet around here or else there's really no bloody point in _having _you around here." He said, pointing his finger in emphasis.

Torres looked at Cal and scoffed lightly, "I didn't call you guys in here," She said, her jaw setting, "That was all him!" Torres said, jabbing her thumb at Loker.

Cal stepped forward and leaned in to Torres's face, "Guilt by association, Torres." He said, and then smirked at her when she narrowed her eyes in anger. Cal straightened himself up and then nodded his head toward Gillian, "Foster," He said, and Gillian crossed in front of him, heading for the door. She stopped in the doorframe as Cal turned to regard Torres and Loker one last time, "You two are lucky it's the holiday season and I'm feeling _slightly_ generous, or you'd find yourselves _suspended without pay_," He said, smiling at them.

Gillian leaned up against the doorframe, smiling. Cal's eyes rested on Loker and Torres, and he was about to turn on his heel to leave, when he caught Loker grinning quite like a madman, "What are you grinning at, _Loker_?" Cal emphasized the younger man's name.

Loker could hardly contain himself as he looked at Cal, then looked at Foster, and then cast his eyes upward, and then back at Cal.

Cal scrunched his face up—the wrinkles in his eyebrows deep-set as he squinted his eyes, "Have you gone bloody mad?" Cal inquired.

Loker continued grinning, and then stuck out a finger and lazily pointed above Foster's head. Cal turned his head in the direction of Loker's finger. Gillian cast her eyes upward, and Torres shot daggers with her eyes at Loker.

As Gillian noticed the tiny plant hanging above her head, she felt herself flush. No one at the office knew about she and Cal's relationship. When Cal, whose back was now to Loker and Torres, caught her eye, Gillian turned an even deeper shade of red—Cal looked at her with a smirk on his face and hunger in his eyes before dropping his mask back into place and whipping around to face Loker, "Seriously, Loker, _mistletoe_?" He asked, affecting an anger he didn't quite feel. The prospect of kissing Gillian Foster was just too delightful in any circumstance—even with one of the biggest pains in his neck standing idly by.

Loker shrugged, "It's Christmas, someone must've put it there," He said, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

Cal scoffed, "Someone, sure." He said, narrowing his eyes. Cal considered reaching up and grabbing the mistletoe to pull it down and toss it at Loker in a demonstration of his distaste—but he quickly surmised with mild disdain that he wasn't quite tall enough to reach the dangling plant.

Loker smiled, "Dr. Foster's standing right under that mistletoe," Loker said, matter-of-factly.

"And your point is?" Cal asked, waving a hand.

"It's tradition—someone stands under the mistletoe, they get a kiss."

Cal narrowed his eyes—"I don't _believe _in that particular tradition," Cal said, shifting his weight. His voice was terse and he was careful that it did not belie any of the joy he felt at the prospect of kissing Foster.

Loker smiled, "Well, Dr. Foster does." He said, shifting his gaze to Gillian, before a grin spread across his face, "And so do I, so…" Loker trailed off as he began to step toward Gillian who was still leaning against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with a smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach.

Loker had taken two steps forward when he was stopped by Cal's firm hand on his chest, "You take one more step, Loker, and I swear it'll be the last bloody thing you do." Cal's gaze was intense as he looked at Loker—and the tone in his voice stopped Loker dead in his tracks and wiped the grin off his face.

Loker took two steps backward and threw his hands up, palms facing outward. "Alright." He said, then turned and walked back to where Torres sat—sitting down in the chair, he ran a hand through his hair. Torres dug her elbow into his side and he shot her an apologetic look.

Cal turned and smiled at Gillian, and then took a few steps toward her, before he turned his head over his shoulder, "And I know Foster believes in this crap," He said, raising his eyes to meet the mistletoe that he was now also standing under, "And she is the only one I'd indulge in this nonsense," He said, turning to face Gillian, who had straightened herself up and was no longer leaning on the doorframe.

Cal was now looking at her with a smile on his face—Gillian bit her lip and felt a familiar fire in her belly as it mingled with the butterflies that had gathered there as a sign of her apprehension. She and Cal hadn't really discussed whether or not to go public with their relationship at work. People talked enough already—and Gillian wasn't quite sure whether or not she wanted the rumors that had been milling about for years to finally be confirmed.

She felt unsure of Cal's intent, even as he looked at her with nothing short of smoldering desire. The kiss could go one of two ways—and either way would be very determining as to how they would move forward. As Cal leaned his head closer, Gillian couldn't make up her mind which sort of kiss she was hoping for.

It would be one of two kisses—the light, friendly peck with a little obvious heat to it. Or the toe curling sort of kiss they'd been partaking in so very often as of late. As Cal leaned further into her, she caught him smirking at her, and she smiled lightly in an automatic response, feeling her stomach begin to knot and loosen at the same time.

She still wasn't sure which sort of kiss they'd be displaying when Cal's lips finally brushed against hers. She felt their warmth course throughout her body as she kissed him back lightly—he smiled against her lips, and then wrapped his arm around her back, pressing his palm flat into her lower back. He pulled Gillian's body into his, and repositioned his head to allow him better access to her mouth. Gillian felt a shiver run through her body as his tongue demanded entrance into her mouth—with a light gasp, she granted it, and she felt the heat swell in her belly as she tasted him. Gillian ran a hand up his spine, no longer questioning the sort of kiss Cal was going for when he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along hers eliciting a light moan that she simply couldn't control despite her best efforts.

Finally, Cal pulled away, and brought a hand to caress Gillian's face as she closed her eyes against his palms. He chuckled as he pressed a light kiss to her forehead—when she opened her eyes, they were filled with desire and something that looked suspiciously like worry. Cal shook his head slightly, and she read what he didn't say, _Not to worry, darling_—and as quickly as it had crept in, the worry left Gillian's eyes and was replaced, instead, with happiness.

Cal smiled at Gillian, ran his hand through her hair, and then turned to face Loker and Torres. He nearly laughed at the expressions they were wearing. Both of them were staring slack-jawed at the scene before them, and Loker was shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

Cal smirked at Loker, specifically—Loker cleared his throat and then finally found his voice, "What—since wh—how l—"

Cal cut him off with a stern expression and a firm finger pointed in the younger man's direction, "Don't you even finish that, Loker, because the answer, no matter what question decides to fall out of your mouth is it's none of your damn business." He said, before he turned on his heel and began to walk out the door. He motioned for Foster to exit before him—she cast her eyes downward and bit her lip to keep from smiling as she passed in front of him, as he was exiting the lab, Cal tossed out over his shoulder, "Oh, and if either of you breathes a word of this—you're fired. And I mean that." He said with a grin as he shut the door behind him, leaving stunned Torres and Loker in his wake.

When they made it into the hall, Cal grabbed Gillian gently by the arm—"Come to my office with me, yeah?" He asked, enjoying the way her face was still flushed from the kiss they'd just shared.

Gillian nodded and followed him down the hall—when they got into his office, Cal shut the door behind him and pulled Gillian into an embrace. He pressed his lips to her hair, "Alright, darling?"

She nodded against him—"Cal—" He could hear the smile in her voice, even though he couldn't see it as she was speaking into his chest, "Were we…" She trailed off, searching for the word, "ready for that?" She finished, her voice laced with uncertainty.

"I think so," He murmured into her hair. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled back to look at her, "I think so." He said again, but he couldn't keep the doubt out of his voice—hearing it, and feeling a bit of the same creep into her stomach, Gillian nodded, and then cast her glance away from his face.

Clearing his throat and releasing her arms, Cal walked back to his desk—"I've got a question for you." He said, his voice tentative. Gillian arched her eyebrow at him in silent question, "I've got to do some shopping later today—" He sat down in his chair, "for Emily," He clarified, "And I want to get her something she'll actually like this year," He smiled rather self-deprecatingly, "So, I was hoping you could come with me, you know, to pick out something she'd like," He said, leaning back in his chair.

Gillian smiled at him warmly, "I'd love to," She said.

"Great!" Cal said, smiling, "After work okay?" He asked.

Gillian nodded, and headed toward the door, "Perfect." She said as she swung the door open.

Cal nodded, "I'll pick you up in your office, then." He said—shifting in his chair.

Gillian eyed him suspiciously—there was something about his tone that gave her pause—shaking her head she chuckled, "Alright." She said as she exited his office, closing the door behind her and continuing down the hallway to her own office.

* * *

The day seemed to drag on—he couldn't wait to spend the day with Gillian, and so when three o'clock rolled around, he'd decided that they could cut out early; they were the bosses, after all. Smiling, Cal grabbed the gift he had for Gillian and locked his office door behind him.

As he came down the hallway, he saw Gillian writing on a paper in front of her—her heels were kicked off and her leg was tucked up underneath her. Cal smiled as he saw her—tucking his gift behind his back, he opened her door—she looked up to see him and smiled, giving him a quizzical look as it was very obvious that he was hiding something behind his back.

She turned her head to the side, Cal smiled at her as he entered her office, "I thought we could cut out a little early today," He said, a grin spreading across his face.

She smiled at him as she checked her watch. She closed the folder in front of her and set her pen down on her desk, "I don't see why not," She said, as she pulled her leg from under her and set it on the ground. "What's behind your back?" She asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"A present." Cal said, matter-of-factly.

"A present?" Gillian repeated as she slipped her shoes on, one at a time. Cal nodded, "For me?" She asked, laughing at the look on his face.

"Yes, love, for you." He said. Cal then made a show of looking around her office—"I know how you love Christmas, Foster," He said, his tone light, "But looking at this office, well, you'd never know it."

She chuckled, her eyes following the same path that his did. She hadn't decorated her office this year and it did look rather empty and decidedly not seasonal. "Okay…" She said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So…" Cal said, "I thought I'd get you something to make it feel a bit more seasonal in here," He said, pulling the item from behind her back—walking forward, he set it on her desk.

Gillian gasped as she looked at it—and she felt tears begin to sting the back of her eyes—sitting on her desk, all lopsided and ridiculous looking was the most pathetic little Christmas tree she'd ever seen. The branches were excessively thin and needles were sparse and half of them were brown. Gillian reached out her hand to touch the tree—the needles were dry and a few of them fluttered to her desk, falling from the tree. She laughed, even as she felt the hot tears begin to escape from her eyes—"Oh, Cal…" She said, her voice wrought with emotion. "It's perfect," She said, shifting her gaze between him and the tree.

Cal chuckled, but his voice was soft when he said, "Only _you_ could say that about the ugliest tree I've ever seen, darling."

Gillian laughed and she stood up and crossed over to where he stood—she stopped when she reached him and brought her hand up to touch his cheek.

"And," Ca'ls voice was quiet as he spoke, "I've got some little ornaments and tinsel to put on it," He said, "Make it really look festive." He said, laughing lightly. He had expected to feel awkward and cheesy putting this tree on Foster's desk. It was, after all, an awkward and cheesy thing to do. But, he was surprised to find, that he didn't—he didn't even feel a wave of sentimentality pass through him—instead, all he felt was happiness, because he saw the look in Gillian Foster's eye as she looked at the tree and then looked at him.

"Thank you," Gillian said, before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, "It's lovely." She said, and Cal could tell she was sincere—he could tell quite a lot simply by looking at her face. He thought for a moment that it was lovely the way her muscles worked to convey to him what she felt—and how she didn't try to hide it from him the way other women in his past had.

"You're welcome," Cal said, and then he kissed the corner of Gillian's mouth, "You deserve it." He said, chuckling lightly, "Seems like a rather rude thing to say considering the look of that present…"

Gillian laughed and nodded slightly, turning to look at the tree one more time.

"Well," Cal said, breaking the silence that had settled between them, "You ready to do some shopping?" He asked, indicating his head toward the door.

Gillian nodded, "I am." She said, grabbing a tissue from her desk and dabbing at her eyes, "I'm sure I look wonderful after all that crying," She said, shaking her head.

Cal placed the tip of his finger under her chin, "You look beautiful." He said, his voice and gaze serious—"Absolutely beautiful," He breathed, before he turned and walked to the door—he opened it for her as Gillian grabbed her coat off the rack in her office—

As they hit the brisk D.C. air and made their way to his car, Cal felt a wave of excitement wash over him—he'd never been one to be excited about shopping. But this year he just happened to be shopping with Gillian Foster, so he was willing to make an exception.

* * *

_TBC_

_In the next chapter we'll see shopping! (ooh, aaaahhhh) and also another Surprise!  
_


	4. Surprise at Starbucks!

_A/N: *waves* Welcome to Chapter 4 of A Cal Lightman, Christmas-in this here chapter, you will find many things-shopping, Starbucks, and a SURPRISE that I shall not ruin in my little tiny author's note._

_This is the longest. chapter. ever. but once I started on this bad boy I couldn't stop._

_Thank you all for your wonderful reviews-they brighten my day, and I may or may not check my email every ten or fifteen minutes on days I post a new chapter just to hear what you guys have to say. So, thanks._

_

* * *

_Cal and Gillian entered the unusually bright department store. Immediately, an older thin saleswoman with her blonde hair cut into a bob greeted them as they felt the heat of the store begin to melt off the chill that had set into their bodies as the brisk D.C. air assaulted them.

"Can I help you find anything today?" She asked, smiling at them. Cal and Gillian exchanged a look—despite the smile on the woman's face, it was painfully clear to both Cal and Gillian that she did _not _want to be there.

"We'll be alright, thanks," Gillian said, offering the woman a polite smile.

When they were further into the department store, Gillian turned to look at Cal, "Well?" She asked, "What were you thinking about getting her?"

Cal shifted his weight between his feet and cast his eyes downward, "I don't know," he said, his voice dropping off slightly.

Gillian almost laughed—she bit her lip with her effort to contain it, "What did you get her last year?" She tried a different approach.

Cal shrugged, "Gift cards," He said, and then looked at Gillian.

"Well, that's not _bad_," she said, her tone soothing.

Cal smiled at her, "I know," sighing, he ran his right hand through his hair, "Since she stopped putting stuffed animals, dolls and hot wheels on her Christmas list, I haven't really known _what _to get her." He chuckled lightly, "After several failed attempts," At Gillian's questioning glance, Cal shot her a look that seemed to say _no, I will _not_ tell you what they were_, "I gave up and decided to go the easy route. But," he said, enunciating the word rather precisely, "it's her last year at home, and I want to get her something special." Cal shrugged his shoulders and dug his hands into his pockets.

Gillian smiled warmly at him. She reached out and gripped his bicep—giving it a light squeeze, she looked at him, "Okay," She turned to survey the store, "I think we can manage that," She dropped her arm and began to walk purposefully through the store.

Cal smiled and began to follow after her. Where she'd touched his arm still burned and as he watched her form move gracefully through the store, he couldn't believe the charge that always ran between them. Even in moments of complete innocence and utter sincerity, Cal found himself wanting Gillian in a way that felt as though might consume him.

Gillian stopped at the jewelry counter and Cal was not far behind her—stopping at the glass case, he leaned on it and looked at her, "Jewelry, Foster?"

Gillian grinned at him and then rolled her eyes at the expression he shot her, "Jewelry, Cal." She said, laughing lightly as she surveyed the jewelry contained in the case.

Cal eyed her suspiciously, "What sort of jewelry?"

Gillian giggled—"Well, she doesn't wear rings much—and earrings aren't quite _fun_ enough," She said, smiling at him. He arched his eyebrow partially in question, partially in amusement—"So, a necklace, then." She said, matter-of-factly.

Cal sighed—he longed for the days of stuffed animals and bicycles and things that were _easy_. Well, a part of him did, anyway. Even as he reminisced about those days, he couldn't help but remember that back in those days he didn't have Gillian—at least, not in the same ever present way that he did now. He'd like to go back and visit those days, he supposed, not have them back forever.

Gillian laughed softly and then ran her hand up and down his arm in a comforting gesture, "It's alright, Cal," She said. He turned to look at her and smiled—"Just look through the cases at the necklaces and find a few that look like Emily."

Cal's lips twitched, "_Look _like her?" He asked, his tone betraying humor.

Gillian sighed, "Yes, Cal," She pointed her finger at the case, "Look." She said, her tone stern as she began touring the cases looking at the jewelry as well. She saw several necklaces that she could see Emily wearing—and loving. But, she didn't ask the salesman to see any of them—it was important that Cal ultimately pick the piece of jewelry out; she was just there to help and give opinions on _his _choices.

Gillian finished looking at the jewelry and watched as Cal made his way around the cases—the salesman approached Cal and asked if he needed any help. Cal nervously looked up to Gillian who smiled at him and gave him a slight nod. Cal pointed out a few necklaces to the salesman who took them out of the cases and set them next to each other. Cal motioned for Gillian to join him.

Smiling, she walked over to where he was standing and sidled up next to him to look at his selections—she saw a few of the pieces she had picked out as well, and she smiled at Cal, "These are all wonderful, Cal," She said.

Cal smiled at her, grateful for her presence by his side. "Which one do you like?" he asked her.

She bit her lip in consideration before she shook her head, "I want it to be your decision, Cal," She said, her voice gentle.

Cal chuckled, "Alright, love," he said, "Then tell me your four favorites and I'll choose from there." Sensing her hesitation Cal looked at her, "I want you to help me pick, Gill."

When he used her nickname, she felt her resolve dissipate as she smiled at him, "Alright." She said, as she reached her hand out.

Cal watched as her delicate, elegant fingers reached out to touch each of the necklaces. He watched as she picked a few of them up and as she ran her fingers over the faces of some of them—he felt mesmerized by the motions her hands were making—by the delicateness of them, the size of them—and he suddenly felt overwhelmed by the moment they were sharing together.

Glancing up at the salesman and then back at Cal, she touched four necklaces—"I like these four," She said, and Cal grinned at her.

Still smiling, he considered four the four options that were in front of him, the salesman having removed the others to put back in their cases. Cal found himself reaching out and touching them, too, in the same way that Gillian had, until finally his hand rested on one. "This one," he said, glancing at the salesman and then back at Gillian who was grinning at him, "Yeah?" he asked, his eyebrows rising slightly.

Gillian smiled and nodded, "It's perfect, Cal," She said, as she eyed the piece he had chosen—it was a dainty and rather delicate white gold heart with little tiny diamonds studding it, "Emily will love it."

"Yeah?" He asked, still slightly unsure.

"Definitely." She assured, reaching out to touch his forearm as the salesman wrapped the gift in a small box and Cal handed over his credit card.

As he watched the salesman run it through the machine and as he watched Gillian peer into the case in front of her, Cal couldn't help but feel thankful. He'd felt awkward about attempting to buy something meaningful for Emily—and he'd felt severe apprehension at asking Gillian to help him—but, as usual, she never ceased to make him feel completely comfortable in the situation. He smiled as the salesman handed over the little bag and they began weaving their way through the crowded department store.

* * *

As they walked down the street, the brisk air rushing at them from all sides, Cal couldn't help but observe how lovely Gillian Foster looked—her cheeks rosy from the cold, her hair curling slightly at her shoulders. Her pea coat was wrapped tightly around her as her scarf was encircled around her neck. Gillian had been wanting Starbucks all day—and Cal suggested they find one—

As they approached the green sign, Cal reached out to take her hand—he smiled as he felt Gillian's hand curl around his own.

The gesture surprised Gillian, and she felt her breath momentarily taken away as she felt Cal's hand slide into her own—as she felt his thumb lightly caress the back of her hand as he turned his head toward her and smiled. Gillian blushed—and she momentarily felt gratitude for the rather cold weather because it allowed her embarrassment to be camouflaged. The last thing she wanted to do was explain to Cal _why _such an innocent gesture made her blush.

In truth, she wasn't even completely sure why it made her blush. Perhaps it was because it was so innocent. Perhaps it was because the electricity between them never ceased to astound her—perhaps it was because it was the first time Cal had ever reached out to take her hand while they were walking in public.

At that thought, Gillian felt tears burn the back of her eyes—sometimes, it really _was_ the little things that meant the absolute most.

She squeezed Cal's hands gently as they approached the door to the Starbucks, and she couldn't help the smile that crossed her face as she was lost in her thoughts. Suddenly, an all too familiar voice ripped her from her reverie:

"Gillian?" She heard the voice, and she felt her stomach drop and lurch at the same time. "Gillian?" It said again. Although her first instinct upon hearing the voice was to drop Cal's hand, she resisted the urge, and instead clutched it tighter and leaned into Cal.

Finally, connecting the voice with the vision in front of her, Gillian responded, "Alec?" She said, her voice a higher pitch than she would have liked.

Sure enough, standing directly in front of she and Cal as well as the door to Starbucks, clearly about to enter, was her ex-husband, Alec. She looked at him, dressed in his traditional winter garb—his black puffy jacket reminded her of the winter in which she'd bought it for him. Gillian watched as Alec reached a hand up to remove something from his head as he looked at her and regarded her with a smile before his gaze shifted to Cal.

"Hi, Gillian," He said, clearing his throat.

"Hi, Alec," She said, plastering a smile on her face—she felt as though she should say more—say _something_ but she couldn't.

"Cal." Alec said, pursing his lips.

"Alec." Cal nodded once, his tone of voice betraying nothing, but Gillian felt him squeeze her hand.

She thought that perhaps they should pretend as though they weren't going into Starbucks—but, given the position of their bodies and the proximity to the door, she knew he wouldn't buy it.

Suddenly, Alec seemed to notice the fact that Gillian and Cal were holding hands—she watched as many emotions flickered over his face—she saw surprise, anger, sadness, jealousy, and something else she couldn't define.

"Headed into the 'bucks?" Alec asked, his nervousness evident in his light laughter and the unsteady manner of his voice.

Gillian nodded. Alec opened the door and motioned for Cal and Gillian to go inside, "Me too," He said as they crossed the threshold.

"What luck," Cal muttered under his breath as he released Gillian's hand so that he could guide her in front of him with a hand on her lower back loudly enough so that Gillian could hear him but Alec couldn't.

Gillian stifled a giggle at his comment and whispered a hurried "Shh!"

The three of them made their way into the line, Alec standing a touch behind Cal and Gillian. The Starbucks was bustling, but it wasn't nearly as crowded as it could have been given the weather outside and the season.

Alec cleared his throat, "So…" He said, uncertainty evident in his voice, "You two are…" He trailed off.

Cal and Gillian turned slightly to look at him, and Cal scarcely controlled the inclination he had to roll his eyes, "We're…what?" He asked, unable to resist messing with Alec.

Alec looked uncomfortable, "Together?" He finished, his voice quiet.

Cal looked at Gillian, who cast her glace sideways before he turned to look back at Alec, "Yes." He said, simply, no trace of malice in his voice. Cal watched as anger and jealousy flitted over Alec's face, and Cal narrowed his eyes at the other man, before turning his head back to look at the menu.

When the cashier called the next customers in line, Cal and Gillian stepped forward, and Alec moved up in line as well.

"What can I get you?" The young woman behind the register asked.

Cal smiled at her, "I'd like a black coffee, please." He said, matter-of-factly.

The cashier smiled, "Okay—what size do you want? Tall, grande or venti?" She asked, her voice rather too cheery.

Cal scraped his hand down his face, "Oh bloody hell," He said, "I don't know," He reached out and pointed to a medium sized cup, "That size." He said—and Gillian giggled lightly at the exasperation on his face.

"Grande." The cashier said, as though Cal gave a damn—which he absolutely didn't.

"What do you want, Gillian?" Cal asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She opened her mouth to respond when Alec's voice carried over, "Grande peppermint mocha." He said—

Cal whipped his head around to look at Alec who shot him a smug smile. Cal turned his head to see Gillian flushing and looking severely uncomfortable. She considered ordering something else just to spite Alec—but, she _really _wanted that peppermint mocha—she'd been craving it all day. So, she bit her lip in consideration, and then looked at Cal who smiled at her—

"A grande peppermint mocha, please." Gillian said, smiling at the cashier.

Cal reached into his pocket and paid the cashier before he and Gillian made their way to a table, took their coats off, and sat down.

"Thousands of people in the city," Cal muttered, "And we have to run into _him_," He said.

There were three chairs at the table, and Cal considered removing one—but, Cal knew how to read people, and Alec Foster was determined that he would be sitting with them. Cal sighed as Alec made his way over to their table and sat down, shooting Cal another smug smile.

Cal did roll his eyes this time.

Gillian shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"So," Cal said, as tension descended upon the table, "You sober, Alec?" He asked, this time Cal was the one to shoot Alec the smug smile.

Gillian looked at Cal and considered giving him a reproachful glare—but, she didn't. Alec had, essentially, asked for it. And, for all the years she and Alec spent together, she was curious.

Alec cleared his throat, "Yes." He said, "I've been clean for a year and a half now." Alec's gaze fell on Gillian, and it softened—Cal saw what he didn't say—_I did it to get you back_.

"Well, at least that's the truth," Cal said, leaning back in his chair, glancing at Alec who was still watching Gillian.

"Grande black coffee for Cal," A male barista's voice called throughout the café, and Cal reluctantly stood up from the table.

Knowing Cal would be back shortly, Alec wasted no time, "Really, Gill?" He asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Alec…" Gillian's tone held a specific warning.

Alec sighed heavily, "I know I messed up, Gill," He said, his voice sad and quiet, "But…_him_?" He breathed out, the sadness he felt evident in his words.

Gillian sighed, "Alec," She said again, and she marveled at how awkward his name now sounded in her mouth. She could see the accusation on his face, and she tilted her head, "Stop it. It wasn't like that and you know it—I loved you," She said, and Alec nearly winced at her use of the past tense, "Cal and I," She started, and she saw him flinch—she felt her stomach tighten. Alec had once been a very special part of her life, and despite everything that had transpired between them, she hated hurting him, "We didn't start seeing each other until a few months ago." She said, and offered him a small smile.

Alec glanced up to see Cal placing a sleeve on his coffee, "Is it serious?" He asked, leaning forward over the table.

Gillian saw the sadness in his eyes, "It's…" She started, unsure of how to continue—

Alec didn't give her a chance, "I want you back, Gill." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gillian pressed her back into the chair and her body stiffened, "Alec." She said, her voice part warning, part apology.

Cal walked up to the table, and took in the scene before him—Gillian's posture and her facial expression told him everything he needed to know, not to mention Alec's posture and facial expression. Cal didn't feel worried—he felt a slight bit of anger because he could tell that Alec had made Gillian feel uncomfortable.

Sliding into his chair, Cal looked between Alec and Gillian, "So," He said, adopting an unusually friendly tone, "What'd I miss?" There was an almost sing-song quality to his question—but, it didn't go unnoticed by Cal or Alec that Gillian visibly relaxed with Cal's presence.

Alec sat back in his chair, "Not a thing," He said, his throat scratchy.

"So," Gillian's voice cut through the tension and Cal watched as Alec leaned slightly forward, proverbially hanging on her every word, "How's work?" She asked, looking at Alec.

Alec sighed and smiled slightly, "Work is good." He said, nodding, "I got that promotion I'd been seeking," He said, sticking his chin out slightly.

Cal drummed his fingers on the table.

Gillian smiled, "That's great," She said, tilting her head slightly, "Congratulations."

"Thanks, Gill," Alec said. "So, were you guys out shopping?" Alec guessed, nodding at the bag sitting on the table.

Cal smiled at Alec, "Yep." He said, his head indicating the bag, "For jewelry." He said, emphasizing the last word. Cal watched as Alec's eyes widened, and Cal nearly chuckled before adding, "For Emily." Cal watched relief surge through Alec, "Needed Gillian's help." He said, sending a smile at Gillian who was hiding her mouth with her hand. By the look of her eyes, Cal would've guessed—and guessed correctly—that she was doing it to hide her own smile.

"… for Gillian," The barista's voice cut in, and Gillian got up from her chair—she was reluctant to leave Cal and Alec alone at the table together, but, she reasoned, _how much trouble could they get into in a matter of seconds_—

Gillian made her way through the crowd and stopped at the counter—picking it up and putting a sleeve on it, she couldn't resist taking one sip before she headed back to the table—what assaulted her tongue was _not _the glorious peppermint mocha she had ordered.

Sighing, Gillian tried to catch the attention of the barista, who was moving surprisingly slowly for how busy the Starbucks was—when she finally did catch his attention, she smiled at him, "Excuse me? This isn't what I ordered—I ordered a peppermint mocha," She said, her tone friendly.

The barista sighed at her, "I made what was written on the cup." He said, looking at her.

"Okay," Gillian said politely, "But that's not what I ordered,"

The young man stared at her before he sighed again, "Okay, just a second—Mindy!" He shouted, in the general direction of the cashier, "Come here for a second," He said.

The girl, busy helping another customer turned her head toward him, "Okay, I'll be there in a second."

"She'll be here in a second," The young man, Sean by his nametag, told Gillian.

Shaking her head, and leaning up against the counter, Gillian sighed, "I heard."

Back at the table, Alec and Cal were simply looking at each other, Cal occasionally sipping his coffee—

"You'll never know her as well as I do," Alec said, his voice filled with contempt.

Cal chuckled and rolled his eyes, "I somehow think that's inaccurate," He said, matter-of-factly—Cal watched the anger pass across Alec's face. Cal was prepared to be civil to Alec despite the fact that he hated him for what he'd done to Gillian—for the fact that he'd, essentially, chosen drugs over Gillian. "You know, Alec," Cal said, "I've never been a fan of this particular turn of phrase, but in your situation, I think it fits: You made your bed, and now you've got to lie in it." Cal said, sipping his coffee.

Alec tried to think of something to say—but he couldn't—he just leaned back in his chair.

Cal glanced at the counter and noticed that Gillian was talking to the cashier and the barista—Cal then turned his attention back to Alec. Noticing something around his neck, Cal's lips curled up into a slight smile.

Pointing his index finger half-heartedly at the contraption hanging around Alec's neck, Cal smirked, "You wearing earmuffs, Alec?"

Alec looked at Cal, and an expression of confusion came across his face, "Yeah." Alec said, furrowing his brow.

"Why?" Cal questioned, his tone simple.

Despite the nonchalant tone with which Cal issued the question, the tension between the two men was glaringly apparent.

Alec's tone was nothing short of indignant when he finally answered Cal, "They keep my ears warm."

Cal looked at Alec with a look that was somewhere between bewilderment and amusement with the tiniest bit of disdain thrown in for good measure.

Responding to the look Cal gave him, Alec crossed his arms over his chest, "Don't your ears get cold?" He asked.

"I suppose." Cal said, taking another sip of his coffee.

Alec looked at him with slight exasperation, "Well? Then, what do you do?" He asked.

Cal turned his head to see Gillian maneuvering her way through the crowd of people, heading back to the table, peppermint mocha in hand.

Cal smirked at Alec, "Well, if my ears get cold," He said, and then he dropped his voice, "I've got Gillian's thighs to warm them."

Cal watched as Alec considered this—and then Cal watched in amusement as Alec understood the innuendo—realization dawned on Alec's face and intense anger rushed in, making his muscles contract as Gillian approached the table.

"Sorry," She said, as she reached the table, "They got my order wrong," She glanced between Cal, who was smiling at her and Alec who was glaring at Cal. She shot Cal a questioning glance—he simply shrugged and slid out of his chair.

Grabbing Gillian's jacket he helped her put it on. Alec still looked angry—

"Well," Gillian said, sighing, "We'd better get going," She said, glancing at Alec, "It was nice to see you, Alec," She said, offering him a small smile.

At her voice, Alec glanced up at Gillian, "You too, Gill," He said, his voice sad. Alec ignored Cal completely as Alec stood up from his chair and wrapped Gillian in an unexpected hug that lasted a little longer than she or Cal was comfortable with.

Cal watched as Alec pulled away—he was going to let it go and simply leave until he saw Alec smell Gillian's hair as he withdrew from the embrace, squeezing Gillian's arms with his hands.

"Yes," Cal said, reaching for Gillian's hand again, "We'd better get going—we've got a—what's it called?" He furrowed his brow as he looked at Gillian, feigning forgetfulness. She raised her eyebrow at him, unsure of what he was talking about, "A—_Charlie Brown tree_ to decorate," Cal said, grinning at Gillian and glancing at Alec.

Cal watched the happiness spread across Gillian's face and Cal certainly didn't miss the look that passed across Alec's face—and Cal thought that the shame Alec Foster felt in that moment absolutely served him right.

As Cal and Gillian exited Starbucks, Cal squeezed her hand, "Sorry, darling," He said, his tone soft—"I couldn't resist."

Gillian smiled at him, "It's alright, Cal." She said, laughing lightly—"Although, I _am _curious," She said, her tone humorous, "What did you say to him when I was gone?"

Cal cleared his throat and tried to suppress the smile that flitted across his face. He glanced at Gillian out of the corner of his eye, "How's that peppermint mocha, love?"

Gillian pushed her side into him playfully and he chuckled, releasing her hand and wrapping his hand around her waist as they walked.

* * *

Two hours later, Cal and Gillian stood in her office, surveying the pathetic little tree now adorned with tinsel and colorful Christmas ornaments.

Cal watched Gillian look at the tree—he took particular note of the way the smile she wore lit up her entire face—

"It's beautiful," She said, looking at the tree.

Cal watched as her eyes lit up, "It certainly is." He said.

Gillian heard the tone in his voice and turned her head to find him watching her carefully—she blushed at his attention—

"So," Cal said, his gaze intent on her, "You're coming over tomorrow to decorate the tree with Emily and me, yeah?" He asked.

Gillian nodded, "Of course," She said, moving closer to him.

"Good," He said, closing the distance between them—he ran his thumb over her cheek, "Do you think I could come home with you for a bit tonight, love?" He asked, his eyes darkening.

Gillian felt a shiver run up her spine at the tone of his voice—"Of course," She said, even as she felt her legs begin to quiver beneath her.

"Excellent," Cal said, before he smiled at her.

Gillian looked at him curiously, wondering why he was smiling and why his eyes held such humor, she opened her mouth to ask him, but he silenced her question with his lips on hers—she sighed into him, enjoying the warmth that began in her belly and spread outward as his hand tangled itself in her hair.

Pulling away, he gazed at her, and then took her by the hand and began to lead her out of the office, "Come on, darling." He said, his voice gravelly, "My ears are feeling particularly cold this evening."

* * *

_TBC_

_also, thanks to Kelsey and Gidget89 for the various ways they helped me with this chapter._

_*checks e-mail repeatedly* _


	5. Ornaments and All That

_A/N: Congratulaaaaations! With all of your wonderful reviews, you have inspired me to write this chapter exceptionally fast! So, here is chapter five of A Cal Lightman Christmas._

_Also, I have apparently ruined earmuffs (or made them better?) for some of you- either way, YOU'RE WELCOME! :D_

_you guys are lovely and wonderful and all that and so I present to you an interlude in our little tale that just so happens to consist of TREE DECORATING!_

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Gillian knocked on the door a little bit after noon. Dressed in black jeans and a red sweater, she held a plate of cookies in her left hand as she raised her right hand and knocked lightly on the door.

Emily, wearing a light blue sweater, answered the door with a smile on her face, "Hi, Gill," She said, holding the door so that Gillian could get past. When Gillian was safely inside, Emily closed the door and called up the stairs "Dad! Gillian's here!" Emily smiled at Gillian and then noticed the cookies in her hand, "And she brought treats!"

Just then, Cal came down the staircase, clad in jeans and a black shirt, running a towel over his wet hair, "What's that, Em?" he asked—he took in the sight before him. Pausing slightly in his descent, he fixed Emily with a stare, "Oi!" He said, "Why didn't you tell me Gillian was here?"

Emily mock sighed and rolled her eyes, "I just did." She said—Cal threw his towel on the banister—"And she brought treats," Emily repeated, reaching to retrieve the plate of cookies from Gillian's hand.

Cal came to a halt in front of Gillian—running his eyes up the length of her body and then back down again before finally meeting Gillian's eyes with an intense gaze—"I can see that." He said, his voice low as he smirked at Gillian and waggled his eyebrows. Leaning in closely so that Emily couldn't hear, Cal brought his mouth closer to Gillian's ear—"Though whatever you've brought," He nodded his head toward the kitchen, where Emily had disappeared with the cookies, "Certainly won't be as delicious as last night," Cal said, and Gillian flushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

Seeing Emily come back into the family room, Gillian cleared her throat—"They're—uh—oatmeal craisin," She said, smiling at Emily and allowing Cal to help her shrug her coat off.

"Sounds great!" Emily offered enthusiastically.

"Bloody hell!" Cal said.

Gillian looked at him and furrowed her brow—"What?" She questioned.

"Leave it to _you_," Cal shook his head as he hung Gillian's coat on the rack, "to take two relatively healthy things and turn them into a cookie!" Cal smiled at her.

"Fine." Gillian said, a small smile playing on her lips, "Then you can't have any!" She poked her tongue out at him before heading further into the living room.

When she did, she saw the tree—it was situated in the corner and it was lit up with white Christmas lights, elegantly strung. When Gillian saw it, she simply couldn't help but smile. "It's beautiful," She said, looking at Cal and Emily.

Emily smiled back, "We put the white lights on this year for you," She said, stepping closer to the tree.

Cal nodded, "Figured they'd be a bit more elegant," He said, stepping next to his daughter.

Gillian laughed lightly, "They're strung so—perfectly." Gillian said, unable to think of another word to adequately describe the way the lights graced the tree.

"They should be." Emily said, pursing her lips, "Dad spent _two _hours trying to get them right. He kept being like 'nope, that's not good enough," Emily mimicked her father, accent and all, "and then he'd start all over." Emily said, smiling. She turned to see her dad staring at her slack-jawed. "What?" She asked innocently.

Cal thinned his lips out—"Thanks for that, Em." He said and nudged Emily in the side.

Emily giggled and left the room—as she left, Cal muttered, "Little turncoat, that one is."

Gillian smiled at him—"It's perfect, Cal." She said, looking at him and then back at the tree—"Thank you."

"Welcome, love." He said, watching Gillian watch the tree. The moment nearly took his breath away. He felt the emotion begin to gather and he was thankful for Emily's dramatic reentrance.

Emily's curly brown hair swayed gently behind her as she carried a large plastic box into the room. "Okay!" She exclaimed excitedly, "Time to decorate the tree!"

Cal laughed and took the box from Emily. Setting it on the floor, he picked up a CD from the table and popped it into the player—"Alright, darling." He said as Emily opened the lid of the box, "I'll put the music on."

Gillian sighed as the music began to emanate from the speakers—"What CD is this?" She asked, smiling.

Cal crossed to the box where Emily was unwrapping a few ornaments—"A Crooner's Christmas," He said, laughing lightly.

"Perfect." She said, her voice quiet—she looked at the fireplace longingly—

"I'll start one." Cal said, tracing her gaze.

Gillian shook her head, "You don't have to." She said, rubbing her palms on her jeans.

Cal tilted his head, "I know." He said, standing up, "But I want to." He went out the back door to grab the wood.

Emily, crouched in front of the box, smiled at Gillian—"Come on, Gill." She said, "We can start putting some of the ornaments on the tree."

Gillian smiled at Emily—"Sure, Em." She said, as she walked over to the box and crouched down next to her—she hesitated only slightly before Emily gave her a comforting smile—then, Gillian reached into the box and began to unwrap some of the ornaments.

Cal busied himself with making the fire, and when it was cackling satisfyingly enough, he turned his attention back to Emily and Gillian. They were standing side by side in front of the tree, each of them delicately placing an ornament on the tree. He felt his heart tighten at the sight and noticing Emily's camera sitting on the mantle, he grabbed it quickly and snapped a quick photo—at the flash, Emily and Gillian both turned around—

"Hey," Gillian said.

Emily just grinned.

"Sorry," Cal said, putting the camera back in its case—"I just couldn't resist."

Gillian laughed then, "Imagine that." She said, crossing to the box and picking up another ornament while Emily did the same.

Cal joined in, too—they pulled ornaments out of the box, and occasionally one would trigger a specific memory or story, and Cal and Emily would recount the teal to a laughing and smiling Gillian. There were a few ornaments Emily had made when she was in grade school, and Gillian thought it adorable how she still relished putting them on the tree and telling the story of how she sat in the brown paint she used to make the clothespin reindeers and cried for an hour before her father came to pick her—and the reindeer ornaments—up from school.

Gillian laughed as she hung up ornament after ornament—and Cal watched her with curiosity as he watched something pass over her face. He couldn't quite define it because the light he was working with was the faint light from the Christmas tree.

When they'd hung nearly all the ornaments, Cal turned to look at Emily, "Emily—why don't you run upstairs and get the last few ornaments," He said, smiling lightly.

"Sure thing," Emily said, before she turned on her heel and exited the room.

Knowing she'd be back shortly, Cal turned to Gillian who was staring into the fire, "What is it, love?" He asked, reaching out to touch her hand.

Gillian shook her head, "Nothing," She said, "I'm fine. Thanks for inviting me, Cal." Gillian shrugged.

"You're welcome, love." He said, but then he traced light circles on her hand—"But you're not fine. What is it?" He asked again—

Gillian felt the tears welling in her eyes, and she continued to stare at the fire, trying to keep the tears at bay—sighing, she glanced at Cal and then immediately looked away—the tenderness with which he was looking at her would make her cry even more—"It's just—this." She said, waving her hand all around, "All of this." Cal raised an eyebrow at her in silent question, "It's all so perfect—and beautiful, and lovely," She said, as though that were an explanation.

Cal chuckled lightly, "And that's a _bad_ thing?" He asked.

Gillian laughed a little bit, "No, no. Of course not. It's just—" She sighed, "It's everything I ever wanted—" Cal saw the sadness etch itself into her face, "With a family of my own." Gillian dropped her head slightly—and then, as if realizing the implication of her words, she spoke again, "Oh—Oh, I don't mean…" She trailed off, and Cal squeezed her hand, "This is amazing—you and Emily are amazing—" She bit her lip lightly—"It's just… I meant… with Sophie." She said, and as she said the name, her voice broke slightly.

Cal pulled her into an embrace, planting a kiss in her hair, "I know, darling." He wanted to do something—to say something that would make it alright—but, he knew, there was nothing that _would _make it alright. Gillian had lost something—and when that mother took Sophie back, she'd taken more from Gillian than anyone could ever realize—she took away moments like this—decorating the tree for Christmas with a daughter—from Gillian. Sighing, Cal rubbed Gillian's back and kissed her hair again, "I know, darling." He said again, his voice soothing.

Emily reentered the room carrying three boxes—"Alright!" She said, then she stopped in her tracks and looked at her dad and Gillian, "Is everything okay?" She asked—

Cal and Gillian let go of each other, and Cal pressed his lips together as he looked at Gillian—Gillian smiled at Emily and wiped away a tear that had somehow managed to escape—"It's okay, Emily," She said, smiling lightly—at Emily's expression, Gillian felt her heart tug, "I just miss Sophie, that's all." She said, matter-of-factly.

Emily immediately set the boxes down on the coffee table and went over to Gillian. Sitting down next to her, the young girl put her arms around Gillian, hugging her tightly—Gillian hugged her back, and neither of them said anything.

Emily pulled away and smiled at Gillian before she got back up and headed over to the boxes she'd set down on the coffee table. "We have yet another tradition in the Lightman house," She said, looking at Gillian.

Cal smiled—his eyes still burning from the scene he just witnessed between Emily and Gillian.

Gillian smiled at Emily, "You do?" She asked, and Emily nodded—"What's that?"

Emily laughed, "Well. Every year, Dad and I pick out a new ornament—something that we think describes the other person—like, I pick Dad's and he picks mine—it can be anything—and then we put them on the very front of the tree." Emily explained.

"Sounds fun." Gillian said.

"Oh, it is." Cal said, laughing when Emily glared at him.

"_Anyway_," She said, narrowing her eyes at her dad—"This year, when we were out shopping, we got you one, too."

Gillian looked at Cal and Emily and felt the emotion swell again—she was getting sick of trying not to cry.

Emily handed her the box, "We both saw it at the _exact_ same time and we both just immediately thought of you!" She said—

Cal nodded in agreement, "It's true," He said, "In fact, I daresay there's not an ornament that could scream _Gillian Foster_ any louder."

Gillian chuckled, "Well, I am sufficiently intrigued."

Emily laughed, "Go ahead and open it!"

Tentatively, Gillian opened the box—and when she saw the ornament inside, she couldn't help but laugh—staring back at her was a glass ornament of a Hershey's chocolate syrup bottle, wearing a Santa hat.

"See?" Emily said, grinning.

Gillian nodded, "I do—it's adorable." Gillian said, as she picked it up—as she turned it to get a better view, she noticed that it actually had glitter on it as well.

"Let's put them on the tree!" Emily said.

Cal chuckled at her excitement—they all three stood in front of the tree, holding their respective ornaments.

Cal smiled as he reached up to put his on, "Mine's rather heavy—" He placed the shar-pei ornament on the tree—Gillian made a note to ask him about that one later—"It's rather good this tree has stiff branches." Cal said, smirking at Gillian who obviously colored even with the faint light of the Christmas tree.

After Emily and Gillian hung their ornaments, the three of them stepped back to survey the handiwork of the tree—complete with an angel atop—

"Looks good." Emily said, smiling.

"Yes," Cal replied, putting his arm around Gillian's waist, "It certainly does."

Suddenly, Emily's phone rang and she ran to pick it up—Gillian watched her go, and then turned to face Cal—she opened her mouth to speak, but finding that she was overcome with emotion, she couldn't—she looked at Cal again, and his hand tightened around her waist—

"I know," He whispered, smiling at her in the near-dark—he could read the gratitude on her face—he could read the happiness, "Me, too, darling." He said, kissing her temple—"Me, too."

* * *

_TBC_

_I've got to finish this badboy by Christmas, lest I lose my inspiration!_

_Thank you ALL! :)  
_


	6. Christmas Villageing

_A/N: What's this-what's this? There's fic everywhere! What's this? There's cute stuff in the air! _

_Ta-dah! You have inspired me to write yet another chapter in an extraordinarily timely fashion! yay you all! :) Your reviews are amazing to read and I love every single one of them._

_Also, re: the shar-pei ornament: it's a shout out to the end of React to Contact with the brain scan business-where Cal scrunches his face up and says "Like a shar-pei!" :)_

_Okay! Without any further ado-here is chapter 6 of A Cal Lightman Christmas!_

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"Well," Cal said, pulling away as Emily walked back into the room, whispering a hurried goodbye into her cell phone, "Are you ready to deck the rest of these halls?" He asked, grinning as he gestured around the rest of the room.

Gillian laughed, as did Emily, who accompanied the laughter with a dramatic eye roll, "You're so cheesy, Dad." She said, smiling at him, "But, yes!" Emily said.

"Right." Cal said, "I'll head upstairs to get Gillian's boxes."

"We'll make the hot chocolate," Gillian said, nodding to Emily who agreed enthusiastically.

"Oh, you mean the hot liquid-death in a cup?" Cal asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Gillian chuckled, "Wow, Cal, you are seriously melodramatic."

Cal grinned at her and then headed up the stairs to retrieve the boxes of Christmas decorations Gillian had brought over a few days earlier.

Emily and Gillian headed into the kitchen to prepare the hot chocolate—when they had gotten everything together, Emily hopped up on the barstool and grabbed a cookie. Breaking a little piece of it off, she put it in her mouth and Gillian couldn't help but laugh at the way Emily's eyes widened in delight.

"Ohmygod, Gill." Emily's words rushed together after she'd finished chewing, "These are seriously good."

Gillian smiled as she grabbed the marshmallows from the cupboard, "I'm glad you like them."

Emily grinned at her, "Oatmeal cookies are like my fifth favorite cookie—but _these_," She said, taking another bite, "could move them straight into first."

Gillian laughed as she handed Emily her mug of hot chocolate. "My roommate in college taught me how to make them."

Emily brushed the crumbs off her hands and then brought the mug of hot chocolate up to her lips, "Be sure to thank her for me," She said before taking a sip of the hot chocolate.

Gillian sipped her hot chocolate, too, "I will."

Suddenly, as Emily brought down her mug and placed it on the counter in front of her, the mood in the room shifted and Gillian watched as a look of uncertainty crossed Emily's face. Gillian tried to ignore it—after all, she usually liked to wait until people chose to open up to her rather than read them. But, Emily bit her lip and cast her glance sideways—

Gillian reached out and touched Emily's arm lightly—"Emily?" She dropped her hand, "Is everything alright?"

Emily gave Gillian a small smile, "Yeah. Everything's fine—she shrugged her shoulders and pressed her lips together."

Gillian could tell that Emily wasn't upset—but rather that there seemed to be something that she wanted to say, "You sure?" Gillian asked. Emily nodded lightly, and Gillian laughed softly as she tilted her head, "What is it?" She questioned, her tone comforting.

Emily finally met her gaze and Gillian saw that her eyes were wet—"It's just…" Emily's voice trailed off as it broke on the last word. "This—" She said, holding up her mug of hot chocolate. Gillian furrowed her brow and Emily laughed lightly—"All of it—" She waved her hand toward the living room where the tree was, "The music and the decorations…just…everything." She finished with a smile.

Gillian reached out and touched Emily's hand, "Okay…" She said, "What about it?" She asked, not sure she understood precisely what Emily was trying to say.

"It's all so…nice. And fun—and light." Emily said, "It's…never been like this before. Not even when my mom and dad were together." Emily shrugged, "At least, not when I remember it. Maybe when I was little it was like this…But when I was older it was mostly fighting and yelling—even around the holidays," Emily chuckled lightly, "Actually, especially around the holidays." Gillian squeezed Emily's hand lightly, "And him." Emily motioned with her head, obviously talking about Cal although he was nowhere to be seen—"He's so…happy." Emily said, smiling brightly. "I've never seen him so happy, Gill."

Gillian sipped her hot chocolate—she felt herself flush at what Emily didn't say: _it's because of you_.

Emily was looking expectantly at Gillian, her eyes wide. Gillian laughed—"I'm happy too, Em."

"Good," Emily said, her face suddenly serious. "You deserve to be, Gill." She said, looking at Gillian intently.

Gillian felt her heart tighten as she looked at Emily.

"And," Emily said, "I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time, but I just didn't know how and didn't want to be awkward—but," Emily sighed and her eyes were wet again, "I love you, Gillian."

That was the last straw—Gillian was crying as she looked at Emily who then began to thoroughly cry as well, "I love you too, Em." She said, her voice breaking slightly.

Emily threw her arms around Gillian and they both cried for a minute before they heard Cal clear his throat from the doorway.

"Everything alright?" He asked, concern evident in his tone.

Sniffling slightly, Gillian laughed a little as she grabbed her mug and walked toward Cal. "Yes, everything's fine." She said, smiling at him as she passed.

As Emily wiped her eyes and then slid off the barstool, Cal raised his eyebrows at her.

Emily giggled—"We just really like hot chocolate."

Cal chuckled as he threw an arm around Emily's shoulders and walked with her.

"Me, too." Cal said, and Emily leaned her head against his chest—"The rest of the decorations are ready." He said as they entered the living room to see Gillian sitting by the fire.

* * *

Gillian opened the final box of decorations and began taking items out while Emily finished clearing a particular table. Taking the items out of their boxes, Gillian looked at each one before she set it on the carpet next to her. When Emily had finished, she crouched down next to Gillian—

"Wow." Emily said, picking up a small ceramic house, "These are so cute!" She said, smiling brightly. "Ooh!" She exclaimed—"There's a library!"

Gillian laughed, "Yep." She said, and she picked up another building, "And a café."

Emily took the building from her and looked at it carefully before setting it down. "And a lodge—and a bed and breakfast—and a school!" Emily said, laughing as she took in all of the parts of the Christmas village, "Oh, there's even a lighthouse!" She said, looking at one of the boxes. "This is so cute!" Emily said.

Gillian chuckled—"It was the decoration that would go up first every year—my mom started my collection," Gillian said, "By giving me that lighthouse from her own collection," Gillian said, smiling as she took the lighthouse out of the box.

Cal watched with an unabashed smile on his face as Gillian and Emily set up the Christmas village. He chuckled occasionally as they discussed the benefits of the school being next to the toy store and the café being next to the bookstore. He watched as they placed the little people of the village in precise ways—a snowman building contest in front of the toy store and an ice skating rink in front of the lodge. A man sitting on a bench near the red telephone booth that reminded him of the ones he grew up with—

He enjoyed watching them, and when everything had been placed, Cal noticed a bag of white little pieces of paper sitting on the coffee table. When Gillian and Emily stepped back to survey their work, Cal reached forward and picked up the bag—

"Oi," He said, and Emily and Gillian both turned around to face him, "What's this?" He asked, waving the back lightly.

Gillian laughed, "That's snow." She said, matter-of-factly.

Cal regarded the bag with suspicion—"Hm." He said, reaching in the bag—"Looks like paper to me." He chuckled as Emily and Gillian rolled their eyes in unison. As Cal withdrew his hand, he noticed that as it caught the light it appeared to sparkle—

"It is." Gillian said, drawing her lips together in a smile—"And glitter." She said, laughing as Cal brushed his hand on his jeans.

"Come help us put snow on the village, Dad." Emily said, laughing at the facial expression Cal shot the glitter on his pants.

"Oh, alright," He said, as he thrust himself up off the couch.

He brought the bag over to Gillian and Emily and they all three reached in and grabbed a handful of snow—they began to sprinkle it on the village and suddenly Cal burst out laughing—

"What?" Gillian asked, frowning at him.

Cal smiled at her, "Listen." He said, pinching more paper snow between his fingers.

Then, Gillian and Emily heard the song that was emanating from the speakers—it was none other than "Let it Snow." They all three began to laugh, then—

"Oh, that's brilliant, that is." Cal said, reaching in for another handful of snow and letting it fall over the village—then, smiling dubiously, he sprinkled some in Gillian's hair.

She immediately brought a hand up to her head—"Cal!" She said, chuckling.

"Sorry, love—" He said, grinning—before he did it again.

"Oh yeah." She said, shaking her head but still smiling, "You're really sorry." She said, chuckling as she stood up to get some more snow and place it on the village.

When they were finished, Emily stepped back and looked at everything—the village was lit up, covered with snow and complete with street lamps and stoplights. "This is just too adorable." Emily said, grinning.

* * *

Gillian and Cal were sitting next to each other on the couch, staring at the fire that was slowly waning. Emily was asleep on the loveseat, covered in a green blanket that Gillian had placed over her.

Gillian shifted her gaze to the Christmas village, still lit up—the music had died awhile ago, and silence hung between them, comfortable and sweet. As she looked at the village, she laughed a little, causing Cal to glance at her.

"What is it?" He asked, a small smile on his lips.

Gillian chuckled—"Nothing, really." She said, and Cal arched an eyebrow at her—Gillian smiled, "When I was little, I used to pretend that the village was real—that the people would come alive at night—" She sighed, "And on nights when it got really bad between my parents, I'd pretend I could go live there if I wanted—and everything would be quiet and peaceful—and _right_," She said, still staring at the village.

Cal's arm, which was cast around her shoulder, pulled her closer to him—

"It seemed like the perfect place to live." She said, her voice quiet. She chuckled again, "Sometimes," She said, her tone soft, "I still like to imagine that they _are _real-that that town exists somewhere because I put it there—and everyone in it is just really happy."

Cal planted a kiss on her forehead—He enjoyed learning these things about Gillian Foster. And, he knew, there was no need for him to say anything—

A few minutes passed, and Cal rubbed her arm as he spoke, "Your mum started your collection then?"

Gillian nodded, her head against his chest—"Mhm." She answered.

Cal's hand stilled—"Do you miss her?" He asked.

Gillian brought her hand up to his chest and pressed her palm flat—laughing lightly she sighed, "She's not _dead_, Cal," She responded, her tone light. Her mother wasn't dead—but, Gillian simply couldn't do it anymore—the song and dance that was her family, where everyone hid from reality and the truth—she'd hated it so much that she found a way to make a career out of finding the truth—so she hadn't seen her mother in years. She talked to her on the phone on occasion—once every month or so. "But," Gillian said, as she began drawing circles on his chest, "To answer your question—sometimes."

Cal inhaled sharply and pressed his palm into her back—

"Thanks for this." Cal said, and Gillian pulled her head away from his chest to look at him—she furrowed her brow in confusion. Cal nodded toward the village, and then the tree, and then to Emily—then he looked around the room that held various Christmas snowmen and figurines—"All of it." He said—Gillian smiled at him. Laughing, Cal pulled her head back to his chest—"And for this." He said, stroking her hair.

Gillian sighed—it had been a long time since she had felt so utterly content. "You're welcome," She breathed—and she felt Cal smile into her hair.

* * *

_TBC_

_... hopefully soon! :)  
_


	7. PRESENT! Or, oh HAI Christmas!

Christmas morning descended upon the Lightman household bringing with it a flurry of freshly fallen snow. Christmas Eve had seen Emily, Gillian and Cal building gingerbread houses and drinking cider and sharing their favorite Christmas memories.

When the night began to grow late, Gillian stood to leave—but Cal and Emily, using their patented 'dual pout technique,' had convinced Gillian that she should simply stay the night—she had reluctantly agreed, but in truth, she felt happy about her decision. She hated waking up to an empty house on a daily basis—let alone on Christmas. So, she'd stayed the night.

Emily and Gillian made fresh hot chocolate before they settled onto the couch in the living room—

Cal came in and took a seat on the loveseat, enjoying the idle chatter between the three of them. He hadn't had a Christmas morning that was particularly pleasant in a long time, and it felt nice to have Gillian with them—he quickly built a fire, and sat on the edge of the fireplace. He considered Gillian, holding her mug of hot chocolate up to her mouth as she sat on the couch with her legs tucked up underneath her as she conversed with Emily. He felt himself grinning when Emily turned to look at him, her eyes widening—

"So," Emily said, but she drew the word out, "Can we open presents now?" She asked, smiling—her tone expectant and excited.

Cal chuckled, it never ceased to amaze him how excited she still got about presents—she was growing up, but the fact that she hadn't lost that part of her made him smile. "Sure, darling." He said, laughing as Emily popped off the couch and headed under the tree.

Picking up the presents, she passed them out, setting hers by her feet.

"Who's first?" She asked, raising her eyebrows slightly, then looking at her dad.

"Alright," He sighed, "I'll go first." He said, reaching for a rather large box wrapped in red paper with white snowflakes.

Emily smiled, "That one's from me!" She said, laughing as he shook it slightly and furrowed his brow, trying to guess what on earth it could be.

"It's rather heavy," He observed, as he began to unwrap the gift. When he had opened the box, he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. Emily's present was adorable—it was a white pot, with a little man on it wearing an apron—emblazoned on the pot were the words "Dad's Chili Pot." Cal chuckled as he ran his fingers over the writing and looked up at Emily who was smiling expectantly.

"I saw that in a store," Emily grinned, "And I just couldn't resist," She said.

Opening the lid to the pot, he found a leather-bound notebook—he raised one eyebrow at her quizzically.

"It's in case you get writer's block." Emily explained, "Sometimes it helps to change _how _you write," She said, shrugging.

Cal smiled at her, "Thank you, darling." He got up off the fireplace and placed a kiss on her head—"I love them."

Cal returned to his seat, and glanced at Gillian—she was clutching her mug in both hands, smiling brightly. Cal studied her and he was relieved and happy to see that the happiness she was expressing was absolutely real.

Cal picked up the smallest of Gillian's presents—unwrapping it, he found a mont blanc pen. Chuckling, he pointed his finger between Emily and Gillian—"I'm sensing a conspiracy," He said, narrowing his eyes at both of them. They simply chuckled—"Thank you, love." He said, setting the pen by his side and reaching for the last gift. Carefully opening the paper, impeccably wrapped, Cal smiled as he saw the vinyl albums of some of his favorite jazz musicians—as he looked at them, he felt his excitement grow as he read out the names—

"Dizzy Gillespie—been looking for this one for ages!" He said, running his hand over the album—Gillian smiled. She had known that. "Art Tatum," Cal chuckled when he read the next name, "Count Basie," He said, recounting the way he told Gillian once, many years ago, that he had a love-hate relationship with his music, touched that she had remembered and included him—he read over a few more names, before he turned to look at her, and smiled his gratitude, "Thank you," He said—"It's perfect." He said, and Gillian smiled—she could tell he loved his gifts.

"Okay, Gill next!" Emily said, laughing—then, she bit her lip, "No, wait!" She said, as she reconsidered, "I'll go next!" She said, laughing as she picked up her present from Gillian.

As she tore the gold paper open, she found a rather large white box—curiously, Emily opened the top to find a blanket—pulling it out, Emily realized that it was a large crocheted blanket, and Emily smiled as she ran her fingers over it. It was brightly colored with delicate and dainty patterns weaved seamlessly into the design. She touched the purples and pinks and greens with her fingertips—"It's beautiful, Gill, thank you." She breathed, and she meant it—it was one of the most beautiful blankets she'd ever seen.

Gillian smiled at her, "I thought it might be nice for next year—it'll match pretty much any color you choose for your dormroom."

Emily smiled, touched by Gillian's thoughtfulness—she clutched the blanket, "And it's so _soft_," She observed—"Where'd you find this?" Emily queried, "I've never seen one like it."

Gillian colored slightly and cast her glance downward—"I uh—I made it." She said, looking into her mug of hot chocolate.

Emily's mouth dropped open—"You _made_ this?" She asked, "That is just unbelievable, Gill!" She said, "It's so gorgeous. Thank you _so _much," Emily said, as she darted across the couch to embrace Gillian in a hug.

Gillian smiled as she returned the hug, and then turned to see Cal watching her—an odd look in his eyes. She couldn't quite place the look, but she felt it reach down into her heart and nose around a bit. Smiling shyly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Emily put the box off to the side and covered her legs with the blanket—Gillian was happy to see that Emily really did love the blanket as much as she said she did.

Cal felt his stomach begin to knot as Emily opened a few other gifts he'd gotten for her—mainly giftcards—one to a bookstore, one to her favorite clothing store—but when she picked up the necklace, Cal suddenly grew nervous.

He leaned forward to watch Emily open it, and he didn't take his eyes off her face as she opened the delicate box—he was relieved and pleased to find that she loved it. In fact, he watched tears spring to her eyes as she ran her index finger over the little heart—

"Oh, Dad." She said, looking up at him, "I love it." She said, matter-of-factly. She didn't need to say more—she'd lived with her father long enough to know that her face was communicating everything he needed to see.

Cal shrugged and offered her a small smile—feeling his heart tighten, "Gillian helped me pick it out." He said, smiling at Gillian.

Gillian laughed, "I hardly helped," She said, shifting on the couch, "Your dad did most of the picking," She said, smiling at Emily.

Emily grinned, "Put it on for me?" She asked Gillian, holding the necklace out for her.

Smiling and nodding, Gillian took the necklace and placed it around Emily's neck, securing it in place.

When it was on, Emily turned to face her dad—"Well?" She asked.

Cal turned his head to the side—"You look beautiful, Em."

"Gill's turn!" Emily said, sitting back down on the couch. "Mine first!" Emily smiled as she pointed to a particular box.

Gillian picked it up and pulled at the green ribbon—she unwrapped the red paper and opened the box—staring back at her was a lovely picture frame with the picture Cal had taken a week or so earlier of Emily and Gillian decorating the tree together. Gillian felt her breath hitch in her throat as the full weight of her emotion hit her—she reached out and brushed her fingertips over the edges of the frame.

"Do you like it?" Emily asked, her tone hopeful.

Gillian blinked before looking up at Emily, "Emily," She said, her tone serious, "I love it."

Emily grinned, and pressed her back into the couch—

Gillian turned to look at Cal and shook her head slightly as if to say _this is nearly too much_. Cal smiled at her—he understood—

"Now mine." Cal said, "There's an order to how you've got to open them though." He said. Gillian arched her eyebrow at him, "That one first." He said, pointing.

Gillian chuckled and picked it up—she was none too surprised to find "A Charlie Brown Christmas." She chuckled and grinned at Cal—who grinned right back.

"Right—now, that one." He said, pointing to a rather large present. Reaching to lift it, Gillian found it incredibly heavy, so she chose instead to leave it on the ground. As she tore the paper, she wondered about its contents. When she saw what it was, she felt the tears spring to her eyes again—"I swear," She said, chuckling, "I've never cried so much at Christmastime in my entire life—" She knew it wasn't true—only partially. She'd cried many Christmases—but this was the first one during which she'd cried from _happiness _instead of sorrow or fear. Cal chuckled—

He leaned forward on the edge of the fireplace—he waved around with his hands, "That's all of the Bronte writing, that is." He said—

Gillian gasped as she ran her hands along the antiquated books—all first editions—she looked at the titles, and barely resisted the near overwhelming urge she had to lean her head down and sniff the books—she'd always loved the scent of books.

"Cal," She aid, her tone wrought with emotion—"They're lovely." She said, tilting her head to the side, "Thank you." She said.

"Welcome, darling." He said, smiling at her.

Suddenly, Gillian's cell phone rang—looking at the caller ID, she looked at Cal and Emily—"It's my mother," She said, smiling tightly—"I'm going to take it upstairs," She said, and Cal and Emily nodded.

When Gillian had made it upstairs, Emily smiled at her father—"Nice job, Dad." She said, grinning at him.

"Thank you very much." He said, chuckling lightly—"I told you I had it under control, didn't I?" He asked.

Emily giggled, "You did." She nodded her head—"I just didn't think you had it _that _under control," She nodded toward the books.

"You underestimate your old man."

Emily raised her eyebrows, "Apparently!"

As Cal and Emily sat chatting on the couch, a curt knock sounded at the door—Cal would know that knock anywhere.

Cal sighed as he hoisted himself up from the couch and headed over to the door. Swinging it open he saw Zoe standing on his front porch with her arms crossed over her chest. Cal held the door open so she could come in.

"Zoe." He acknowledged as she brushed past.

"Cal." She said coolly. "Merry Christmas." She said, a small insincere smile on her face.

"Same to you." Cal nodded as Emily came into the foyer.

"Hi, Mom." She said, walking over to Zoe and hugging her. Smiling, Emily turned to head upstairs, "Let me just go grab my stuff." She said as she began ascending the stairs.

Zoe stepped further into the foyer and then began to look around. Something caught her attention, and she headed into the living room. Cal watched as a myriad of emotions played across her face. She took in the tree and the village and other various holiday decorations.

"Wow." Zoe said.

Cal eyed her suspiciously—"What?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

A smirk crossed her face—"It looks like Christmas threw up in here." She said, pressing her lips together in obvious disdain.

"Zoe…" Cal's voice was all warning.

Zoe threw her hands up—"What?" She feigned innocence, "You're usually Mr. Scrooge and then all of a sudden you morph into Mr. Holiday?" Her tone was snide, and she didn't try to hide the venom in her next words, "Jesus, Cal, what is she? Mrs. Claus?" Her gaze fell to the Christmas village.

Cal narrowed his eyes at her, "That's enough, Zoe." He said, his tone harsh.

Zoe sighed and clucked her tongue, "Oh… that's right… you guys are… what, now?"

Zoe knew all of Cal's buttons, and she didn't hesitate to press them. For years, she had been on the receiving end of his thinly veiled fear of commitment. She was using it against him now and she smiled as she watched a nebulous emotion pass across his face.

While Zoe did recognize his reluctance to name the thing between he and Gillian, she couldn't possibly know its origin. While Cal's reluctance concerning Zoe had been a result of his being unsure of Zoe—Cal's reluctance concerning Gillian was a result of Cal being unsure of himself.

Cal tilted his head and opened his mouth toe respond when Gillian's voice came from behind him, soft as ever. He turned at its sound.

"Zoe." She said, pressing her lips into a smile that appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely genuine.

If Cal was unsure of whether or not Gillian heard the exchange between he and Zoe, Gillian's refusal to meet his gaze told him the probable answer.

"Gillian." Zoe's face showed contempt.

"Merry Christmas." Gillian said, sipping her hot chocolate.

"You, too." Zoe said, her tone severely less than genuine. "Drive alright in the snow this morning?" Zoe queried.

Gillian smirked over her mug—and Cal couldn't help but grin. "I didn't drive this morning." She said, matter-of-factly, making sure her meaning was completely clear.

Zoe's mouth hung open for a moment before Emily bounded around the corner.

"I'm ready!" She said brightly.

Everyone said their goodbyes—Zoe's were all terse and wrought with something quite like contempt.

When Emily and Zoe had gone, Cal turned to look at Gillian. He had excuses and explanations on his lips, but he turned to find Gillian popping the DVD into the player. She settled herself on the couch and looked at Cal expectantly. He studied her momentarily, tilting his head trying to read her. Finding it quite impossible, he shrugged and sat down on the couch.

She pressed play and he pulled her body close to his and ran his hand over her head, enjoying her soft breath and the way her hair felt under the weight of his hand.

* * *

_TBC_

_one more chapter left.  
_


	8. Of all the Cal Lightmans in the world

_A/N: Well, hello! Welcome to the final installment of A Cal Lightman Christmas! I just knew that if I didn't get this fic finished by Christmas, that it wouldn't get done. So, here it is! Hope you all have a lovely holiday! Thank you for your wonderful reviews along the way!_

_

* * *

_Cal felt Gillian ease into him as the familiar music began to play—he watched as the characters he had come to know—and love (though he wouldn't quite admit that just yet)—came onto the screen.

"Did you know," Gillian said, "that when the executives saw the final product of A Charlie Brown Christmas, they were horrified?" She leaned her head into his chest, "They thought they'd ruined Charlie Brown."

Cal smiled into her hair, "No, love, I didn't." Cal ran his hand up and down her arm as his eyes settled on the screen.

When Charlie Brown got his little tree, Gillian looked up at him and gave him a little smile. Cal, of course, noticed the way her eyes crinkled at the sides, and he felt his heart constrict when he thought of the fact that he was responsible for that happiness.

When the movie was over, Gillian pressed stop and sat up—Cal felt a profound sense of loss as she moved her head from his chest. He watched as she kicked up a leg underneath her—flicking off the television, she turned and faced him. Bringing her free leg up, she hugged it, resting her chin on the top of her knee—she looked at him, a tentative smile forming on her face.

Cal felt himself smile in return, even as he felt a sense of nervousness wash over him.

She regarded him for a minute—curiosity on her face.

"What?" He asked, finally, as the silence settled over the room.

Gillian quirked her eyebrow—"What was that—earlier, with Zoe?" She clarified her meaning.

Cal felt the nerves bundle in his stomach, and he swallowed hard—he met her gaze, then cast his glance downward—"I don't know," He said, his voice quiet.

Gillian smiled, and Cal was relieved to see she was not angry—"Okay." She spoke, nodding slightly, "But we need to figure it out."

Cal nodded his agreement—and then a smile spread across his face, "Do I need a nickel, then, love?" He asked—and suddenly he imagined Foster, like Lucy, sitting behind the psychiatric booth.

Gillian chuckled, before she let the desire she felt for Cal on a near constant basis slip into her eyes, "Something like that, yeah."

Cal's breath hitched in his throat—"Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice low.

Gillian smiled, and clicked her tongue—"Talk first." She said, laughing when he threw her a disappointed look, "I think," She said, leaning her head to the side, so it was resting against the back of the couch, "We should pinpoint your fears—if we can find out what you're afraid of, we can label it." She said, smiling.

Cal rolled his eyes as she quoted the movie—

"Hey," She laughed, reaching out to playfully smack him on the arm, "You started it." She observed.

Cal narrowed his eyes at her—"So I did." He said, "Then, carry on." He waved his hand dramatically, feeling his chest tighten as she smiled at him.

"Well," Gillian said, her voice dramatic, "Everyone knows you certainly have hypengyophobia." She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

"Oi!" He said, waving his finger at her, "I resent that. I do _not _have a fear of responsibility." At her look, Cal grinned—"I may have a distaste for it, but certainly not a _fear_." He said, chuckling.

"Uh-huh." She said, smiling at him. "Let's see—what other phobias did Lucy point out?" Gillian glanced up, trying to recall—"Oh! What about gephyrophobia?" She asked.

Cal considered this—"What does that one mean again?" He questioned.

Gillian giggled. "The fear of crossing bridges." She said.

Cal tilted his head to the side—"That's right." Suddenly, Cal's eyes widened in surprise—"She may be on to something with that one." He said.

Gillian's brow furrowed—"What?" She asked.

"Well, not _literally_, but _metaphorically_, anyway." He explained—sensing her confusion, Cal smiled—"I'm scared of taking our relationship to the next level," He admitted—"I'm scared of crossing that bridge, for lack of a better analogy."

Gillian's eyes widened slightly as she understood his meaning. She let the idea sink in, but she couldn't keep the flash of hurt off her face. The idea that Cal was scared of a relationship with her _hurt _in a way she hadn't been expecting. Cal saw the muscles contract—

"What was that?" He asked, pointing to her face—"There."

Gillian sighed, "What's there to be scared of?" She asked, her voice soft—she brought her hands into her lap and wrung them together, sliding her fingers over one another in a self-comforting gesture.

Cal chuckled lightly—"A better question might be what _isn't_ there to be scared of?"

Gillian's jaw jutted out slightly, and Cal reached to still her hands. Heat spread between them, and Cal smiled.

"Zoe picked up on my fear, Gillian." He said, and he watched as Gillian nearly flinched at the confession—"She made the association," He explained, "But she was wrong about why." Gillian furrowed her brow in confusion—"I'm not unsure of _you _Gillian," He said, "Hell, I'm not even unsure of _this,_" He gestured between them.

Silence hung in the air between them—

"Then what _are_ you unsure of, Cal?" Gillian asked, and she heard her own voice quiver even as she asked the question.

Cal squeezed her hand, and dropped his gaze—

Reading his thoughts accurately, Gillian lifted her head off the couch, "Oh, _Cal_." She said.

He shrugged, "Well, it's _true_—I'm unsure of myself, Gillian." He pulled his hand back into his own lap.

Gillian let out a little noise—and then she dropped her gaze to meet his—"Why?" She asked.

The air was suddenly thick between them—Cal's gaze grew serious, and Gillian watched as his features darkened. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough and wrought with emotion—"Everything I touch gets ruined." If the mood hadn't been so serious, Gillian would have laughed at the fact that he was still quoting Charlie Brown—instead, she fixed him with a serious stare—"I'm _serious_, Gillian. I couldn't stand it if I ruined you—if I _hurt _you." He clarified.

Gillian shrugged, "Then don't."

Cal's head snapped up at the simplicity of her answer, and he searched her eyes—he found only passion—he sighed lightly, "You say it like it's so easy."

Gillian pressed her lips together before she spoke, "It is." She smoothed her hand over her jeans, "Or, at least, it could be."

Cal felt the emotion swelling in his heart and he felt it travel upward and plant itself behind his eyes—"What do you want, Gillian?" He asked, his voice hoarse with emotion, "I mean—from this—from _us_?"

Gillian grew quiet, and Cal listened to the steady hum of her breathing. Her ability to comfort him never ceased to amaze him. Finally, Gillian spoke—"All I want, Cal—" She said, her voice throaty, "is what I have coming to me." She reached her hand out and touched his forearm, "All I want," Cal nearly shivered at the tone in her voice and the way her fingertips lightly danced upon his skin, "is my fair share."

Cal swallowed, "Which is what?" He asked.

Gillian's gazed darkened—"_Everything_."

Before Cal could react, Gillian's mouth was on his—he felt her soft tongue press against his lips and he opened his mouth to her—her tongue swirled with his and she tasted sweet, like hot chocolate, and Cal smiled against her as she withdrew her tongue. His hand ran up her spine and tangled in her hair, and he kissed her deeply, enjoying the little sounds she made—

Cal pulled away and looked at her—his gaze flickered between her lips and her eyes, her pupils were dilated and her breathing was shallow—

Suddenly, Cal felt the emotion rush over him all at once—he felt it travel through his veins, and it was all he could do not to reel backward from the sheer force of it—"_Fuck_," He breathed, his breath ghosting across her lips, "Gillian, I love you." He said—"I love you—I'm bloody in love with you and I don't want to fuck this up."

Gillian's lips curved into a smile—she felt her heart swell, and she felt a tingling in her toes, like she was regaining the feeling in them all at once—every nerve in her body seemed to stand at attention. It was the first time Cal had ever said that to her—at least in _that _capacity, and she couldn't help the tears that began to form in her eyes. She blinked at them, and smiled against them—

"Then don't." She said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

And just like that, Cal felt his fears dissipate—he felt as though they were seeping into Gillian somehow—like she was taking them away—and discarding them. He realized then, that he wouldn't fuck it up—that he couldn't—

"Okay." He said, and he realized how inadequate and ineloquent it sounded as it hung in the air between them—

But Gillian smiled anyway—a full smile that had Cal's heart pulling—"Okay." She repeated, and Cal leaned forward to kiss her—she spoke against his lips, "I love you, too, by the way."

Cal chuckled, and ran his hand through her hair—he kissed her for a moment, again, enjoying the way she felt melded against him, her body pressed into his—how perfectly they seemed to fit, before he pulled away and caressed her cheek with the back of his index finger—"You're bloody gorgeous,"

Gillian smiled seductively at him, and he watched in awe as she peeled herself off the couch and headed over toward the stairs—pausing momentarily, she threw a glance over her shoulder—"Are you going to let all this beauty go to waste?" She asked, her tone nothing short of dripping with sex.

Cal nearly growled his response, "Not on your life, darling," He said, standing up from the couch—he watched as she laughed, a deep and throaty sound that made him shiver—then she traversed up the stairs—following her, he murmured, "Not on your life."

* * *

They lay in bed, Gillian's head on his chest. Smiling against him, she idly drew circles on his chest—

Feeling her smile against his skin, Cal looked down at her—"What?" He asked—

"This," She said, draping her leg over his legs, pressing herself into him, "is so much better than real estate."

Cal smiled, and ran his hand up her bare spine—"Too right." He said, chuckling.

Gillian laughed lightly—the sound filled the room and echoed—she sighed against him, "Merry Christmas, Cal."

Cal leaned his head down and pressed a kiss to her temple—"Mm," He said, enjoying the way she moved against him—"Happy Christmas, darling."

Gillian grinned—as did Cal—_happy, indeed_.

* * *

_FIN_

_Well, folks-thus concludes the franchise! I appreciate all of your lovely reviews and encouragement along the way- but, I feel as though there's nowhere left to go with this fic. Well, nowhere that I want to go, anyway. So, this will be it! If I ever DO continue in the Charlie Brown vein again, it'll be without Cal and Gill in an established relationship. (NOTE: Not saying I'm going to continue, just saying that IF I do, that's how it'll be...)_

_I had fun with you all-and I hope to see you around my future fics.  
_

_In the meantime- I have **These Sins** as a work in progress (so, check it out ;)  
_

_Beyond that, once These Sins concludes, I have ideas aplenty. So, stay tuned!  
_


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